


Little Monster

by TimeLordOfGallifrey



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Badass Erik, But this probably wont end up being a cherik fic, Cherik sexual tension, Erik is a Father, Erik isn't a very good father, Gen, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Hurt Peter Maximoff, Kidnapped Peter, Kidnapping, Protective Erik, Rescue Mission, Sassy Charles, Sassy Peter, Torture, but he tries, complete fic, confused dadneto more like, dadneto, this is a dadneto fic more than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLordOfGallifrey/pseuds/TimeLordOfGallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter goes missing his mother contacts Charles who in turn contacts Erik in the hopes of convincing his friend to carry out a rescue. What happens however when Peter's true parentage comes to light? How will the other mutants, especially Erik, react to the news? Set after XM-DOFP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I haven't updated Herr Doctor or Escape the Smithsonian in months or something ridiculous like that. And I am extremely sorry, but I just finished my exams and I took my laptop (where I was writing both those stories) to get repaired as I couldn't very well do it in the midst of exams. As soon as I get it back (which should hopefully be next week) I can continue to write and I promise you I will not give up on either of those stories.
> 
> But for now, I hope you enjoy this. Sorry about any spelling mistakes you may encounter because I typed this up on my brother's tablet in the middle of the night when he was asleep.
> 
> Until the next time (which hopefully this time won't be too far away) and I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to drop me a comment if you did, you have no idea how happy they make me.

 

William Stryker sat at his desk, slowly flicking through each frame of security footage his team had been able to get their hands on, desperate to find one that showed a clear image of his target’s face. No one had been able to present a description of the boy. No one but the guard who had been taped onto the wall inside the lift the day that the mutant terrorist Erik Lehnsherr had been broken out of what was supposed to be the most secure building on the planet, the Pentagon. So much for that then. But it only furthered his beliefs that mutants could not be trusted to roam the world unchecked, that kid could end up breaking any number of high calibre criminals out of jail and Lehnsherr, well, he had almost made history as the first man to assassinate not one but two Presidents of the United States. Though he knew that he should be thankful that the blue shapeshifting woman known as Mystique had stepped up pretending to be President Nixon, he wasn’t. She could easily walk into the Oval Office at any moment and order a nuclear strike if she felt like it. She could initiate World War 3 if she so happened to be in the mood. She could infiltrate military bases and bring the country to its knees if she had the urge… no, none of them could be trusted. No mutant, no matter how good its intentions were, could be allowed to roam as a free agent. They had to either turn themselves in, or join his efforts. Even he had to admit that having mutants on his side would only help him. Magneto could easily render all enemy weapons useless. Mystique could infiltrate countless enemy bases. The speedster kid could take out dozens of hostiles within a second. Yeah, he needed them on his side. However, the hard part would be to find them. Magneto had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth and Mystique had managed to effortlessly disappear into the crowds. Hence why Stryker had decided to focus his efforts on finding the speedster kid.

            He grinned to himself once he’d found an, albeit blurred, image of the boy’s face. On its own it wouldn’t do to find him but with the sketch provided by the sketch artist he’d gotten to speak to the guard who had been attacked by the kid, it was more than enough. He scanned the sketch into the system he’d had developed and set the computer to scan through all known databases to find someone whose picture matched both images. The machine whirred thoughtfully and Stryker rolled away from the desk before standing up to fetch himself yet another mug of coffee. A young soldier quickly bustled into the room without knocking and looked sheepishly up at his commander who simply raised an eyebrow at the abrupt interruption.

            “Magneto’s back in the country, Sir.” the young soldier said formally.

            “That’s all?  You don’t have anything a little more specific?” Stryker asked, evidently displeased.

            “I’m sorry, Sir. But we’re working on determining his precise location as we speak.”

            “Well get back to it then. Dismissed.” Stryker instructed and turned away from the young soldier who quickly darted back out of the door, relieved to be dismissed from Stryker’s company.

            The computer bleeped at him a while later and he was instantly back in his seat looking at the screen. Three matches had been found for the boy he was searching for. It was obvious which one it was. The other two boys were both blonde and had less defined features than those that the ambushed guard had described to the sketch artist. He clicked on the remaining one, a sense of victory washing over him. The image moved to the left hand side of the screen as the images of the other two matches faded out of sight. Information popped up to the right of the boy including his name, age, address and criminal record. Well, it wasn’t so much a record, per say, it was more a very long list of accusations against the boy for theft that had never been proven. He smirked to himself as he scrolled down the extensive list of accusations. There was quite the range he had to admit, from petty theft to stealing televisions to stealing arcade games to two bank robberies. He shook his head in disbelief, mentally adding “breaking into the fucking Pentagon and breaking out a goddamn terrorist” to the list. Stryker quickly jotted down the address of the boy and slipped the paper into his pocket before printing out the photo and stuffing that too into his breast pocket. He quickly shut the computer down and pulled on his jacket before radioing to his troops to be ready by the time he was in the parking bay.

            “I’ll be seeing you soon, Peter Maximoff.” he thought to himself as a smirk crossed his face, “You can’t run from me.”

 

***

 

            Peter was asleep when Stryker and his team dropped by. The clock by his bed slowly ticked on into the wee hours of the morning as the kleptomaniac lay there drooling in a deep sleep.

One unit stole around to the other side of the house, glancing into each window so as to establish which room the boy would be sleeping in. The unit leader was almost ready to call it quits, they hadn’t found any evidence of any room in the house belonging to a teenage boy, let alone see the kid themselves. As they slowly rounded the corner and started to creep around the other side of the house the unit leader, Higgins, noticed a small patch of light pouring out onto the grass by the side of the house, he crouched down onto his knees and peered carefully into the window and there he was. The silver-haired teenager dozing in his bed surrounded by piles of items that he almost certainly hadn’t paid for.

            “We got him. He’s in the basement.” Higgins radioed over to Stryker and the second unit,             “What are my orders, Sir?”

            “Gas masks on boys,” Stryker replied, “I highly doubt Maximoff will sleep through being carried out without a little incentive. Unit two, go in through the front door and secure the basement door, we don’t want him running out on us now do we boys?”

            “No, Sir.” came the crackly response through the radio.

            “Higgins, take your boys and drop a canister into the mother’s room and the sister’s room. We can’t have them waking up on us. Then drop one into the boy’s room. Radio back when complete.”

            “Yes, Sir.” Higgins replied and motioned for four of his boys to pry open the bedroom windows of the mother and the sister and drop the canisters inside.

            “In position.” said the leader of Unit Two, Merriot.

            After receiving a nod from the rest of his team, confirming that the mother and sister had been taken care of Higgins radioed in to let Stryker and the rest of Unit Two know that they now wouldn’t awake for a good twenty-four hours at least.

            “Dropping it into the boy’s room now, Sir.” Higgins said into his radio as he pulled the window open slightly and dropped the canister in through the gap. Peter stirred the second he heard the metal canister touch the floor and was out of bed as fast as lightning, he looked up to his window just in time to see it being closed by a pair of gloved hands. He ran to the window, climbing up onto a pile of boxes of sweets to gain better access. Peter shoved against the window, trying to force it open against the hands of the men outside, he tried for a good second before zipping over towards the door only to find that it too refused to budge. Gas had started to leak from within the canister causing a slight panic to set in.

            “What the hell?!” he yelled charging at the door once more but, like before, it didn’t budge,             “What’s going on?” he asked glancing about wildly for another way out as the white fog slowly began to fill the whole room. Higgins watched through the window as the kid sped around the room in a streak of silver. Before he knew it Peter’s face was pressed up against the glass right in front of his own, “Get out of the fucking way and let me the fuck out!” Peter yelled trying to sound threatening but already feeling much weaker than he had a moment ago. The gas was filling the room as he ran to and fro, trying to batter his way out of the room, “Muuuuuuuum!” he yelled, pounding on the door, where was she? Couldn’t she hear the commotion that he was causing. Peter strained to stay conscious as the cloud filled the entire room, but his battle was short lived. The speedster lost consciousness by his bedroom door and tumbled unceremoniously backwards to the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

            Stryker heard the thud from outside the door and quickly ordered his men to open the door. He made sure his gas mask was on correctly before walking calmly down the steps towards the unconscious teenager on the floor. The room was filled with white fog, making it almost impossible to see where he was going. “Open the windows Higgins, let’s let out some of this gas so we can see what we’re doing.” he ordered into his radio and soon the fog began to clear from the room. “Get Unit One to ready the cars Higgins.” Stryker ordered as he motioned for the rest of Unit Two to follow him inside.

            “This him then?” Merriot asked through his gas mask, looking down at the kid as the fog began to clear.

            “This is him.” Stryker nodded with a satisfied grin which was hidden from view by the mask, “Take him out boys. Wouldn’t want him waking up while we’re stood here staring.”

            “Yes, Sir.” Four soldiers nodded and between them they picked up the boy before carrying him up the stairs and out of the house towards the Jeep.

            “Secure his hands and feet and put him in the trunk.” Stryker instructed as he emerged from the Maximoff home, “I want to be back at the facility by daybreak.” He climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep as the Maximoff boy was bundled hastily into the trunk.

            Within seconds the vehicles were tearing off down the quiet suburban road towards the edge of the city with Peter Maximoff in the back of the Jeep, wrists and ankles cuffed together.

Peter came to five hours later, groggy and frowning with his head pulsing incessantly. “The fuck…?” he groaned as he tried to move his arms only to find that they were trapped behind his back. He went to try and move his legs only to be faced with the same problem. Gradually his head stopped swimming and he became able to focus on the groaning noise that had assaulted his ears since the second he woke up. It wasn’t a groan, he realised, but the rumble of an engine. He was in the fucking trunk of a car wasn’t he? Peter groaned, letting his head rest back against the floor as the events of last night came begrudgingly back to him. The gas… being trapped in his room… calling for this mother. His mother! Where was she? Was she okay? Peter began to breath heavily, had they gotten her too? And what about his kid sister? Where was she? He began to kick out with his bound feet against every surface he came into contact with. “Let me out you sick fucks!” he yelled, pounding against the roof of his prison, “What the hell do you want?”

From within the cab of the Jeep Higgins looked over at Stryker, “I hadn’t imaged he would wake up so soon. That gas was supposed to knock him out for twenty-four hours wasn’t it?” he asked his superior.

            “It was.” Stryker nodded, glancing out at the open road, he’d thought it might wear off more quickly with this kid but he hadn’t imagined it to happen so soon. The Maximoff kid was more impressive than he’d originally thought, he had to give the boy credit.

            The speed of Peter’s kicking increased, once he’d realised that the people who’d taken him seemed intent on ignoring him, until his legs were a blur, pounding against the roof and creating dent after dent in the cold metal. Suddenly he heard a click, something was beginning to give. A grin spread across his face and he increased the speed at which he was hammering against the roof of his cage. Suddenly, the roof flew off and bright daylight assaulted his eyes. He then realised that he hadn’t thought any of this through, he couldn’t run with his ankles cuffed together. But what other choice did he have? Before the lid of the trunk had even hit the ground Peter had rolled out of the truck and into a ditch to avoid being crushed beneath the tires of the military van that had been following behind the Jeep. Stryker’s Jeep came to a screeching halt as Peter scrambled to get to his feet. The soldiers were already out the car by the time he had managed to and were on him within seconds, he’d barely been able to jump a few metres before he was being crushed into the grass by the weight of two soldiers. He thrashed about wildly, feet connecting with one of their noses with a satisfying crunch. As a third soldier approached he realised that maybe his little escape plan hadn’t been the best idea, the third soldier had in his hand a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

            “Hold his head down.” the third soldier instructed.

            “Don’t you dare come near me with that thing or I will rip your bleeding head off with my own fists do you hear me I will kick your ass so hard you can’t sit for half a fucking year.” Peter rattled off in one breath, trying to sound threatening to mask his fear. As the soldier crouched down beside him he was a thrashing blur, the other two soldiers were finding it increasingly difficult to keep him pinned on the ground.

            “Sir?” the third soldier asked looking up to his boss unsure what to do, “I can’t do it if he won’t keep still.

            “Damn right you won’t do it because if there’s one thing I can’t do it’s keep still.” Peter snapped, still trying to shake off the soldiers in a blur of movement.

            Stryker frowned and walked calmly down the incline into the ditch where his men were wrestling with his captive, “Peter if you don’t stop moving now, I will send my men back to your house to kill your mother and sister.”

            It worked. Peter froze, “Don’t you fucking touch them or I swear I will --”

            He was cut off by Stryker as the man continued his speech, “Now, if you’d be so kind as to get in the car I’ll even spare you the injection, so long as you behave, that is. If you don’t, well, I know where to find your family.”

            “If you hadn’t noticed I can’t exactly get into your bleeping car myself.” Peter huffed resignedly, face still pressed into the dirt.

            Stryker nodded to his men and they got off the boy, Peter sucked in a huge breath as the weight was lifted from his lungs before he realised what they were about to do.

            “Put me down!” he yelled as the men lifted him up, one held him up by the armpits, the other by his feet.

            “Struggle and you get this in the neck along with your mother’s dead body thrown onto the floor in front of you.” Stryker said with eerie calm, that quickly shut Peter up.

            “Put him on the floor between the seats. You two, ride with Merriot.”

            There was a chorus of “Yes, Sir.”’s as Peter was manhandled into the gap between the front and back seats of Stryker’s Jeep. One soldier climbed into the back with him, sitting by his feet. While the others climbed back into their respective vehicles and they were tearing off down the road once again, roof of the trunk of the Jeep lying forgotten by the side of the road.

            “You gonna tell me who you are or am I just going to have to make it up?” Peter asked after five minutes of silence as the parade drove towards Stryker’s facility, “Shit face? Dick brain? Mommy’s little princess? American Hitler?”

            Stryker turned around to face him, “Shut your face, brat, or I’ll gag you with your own socks.”

            “Alright, alright, didn’t mean to get your knickers in a twist…” Peter began and noticed the name sewed onto Stryker’s uniform, “Stryker? That’s not a name. It’s a shit name if it is one. Did you pick it yourself or did your shit for brains father pick it out for you? I think Asshole would be a more fitting surname don’t you?” he asked with a cocky grin.

            “Merriot, take your team and slaughter his mother and sister.” Stryker said calmly into his radio.

            “No no no wait!” Peter exclaimed desperately, “Please man, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. Gag me with my own shirt or whatever you psychofreaks do just leave them alone!”

            Stryker showed no indication of taking the order back, rather, he simply smirked at the trussed up kid in the back of his Jeep.

            “Please.” Peter begged, “Please I’ll do whatever you want just leave them out of it.”

            Stryker turned away from him and Peter’s eyes widened in panic before he saw him reach for his radio and call in, “Scratch that. Carry on with your original orders.”

            Peter sighed in relief, resting his head back against the door, they were going to be okay. They weren’t in any danger so long as he did what he was told. Although, that didn’t sound like much fun either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Once again, sorry for any spelling mistakes that might ensue. My brain usually skims over them when I check back over my work. Stupid brain...

Magda Maximoff awoke at one in the morning the following night, exactly twenty-four hours after she’d been gassed. She frowned as she pulled herself out of bed and pulled a thin summer dressing gown on over her pyjamas. She glanced over at the clock/calendar on her bedside table, registering the time before she registered the date, but, when she finally did register the date, a wave of confusion washed over her, had she missed an entire day? No… she couldn’t have. Peter must have snuck into her room during the night as messed with her clock out of boredom. She padded over to the door and her foot struck something cold and hard and metal. “Son of a…” she cursed and crouched down to pick it up, whatever the hell it was. This wasn’t hers… Shaking her head she walked quietly out of the room towards Peter’s door, it must be his. “Peter.” she said quietly, knocking on the door, surely he couldn’t be asleep already. That kid was practically nocturnal,        “Peter are you in there?” she asked knocking once more. Nothing. “Pietro are you in here or not?” she asked in her native tongue, gradually she opened the door. The sight that greeted her made her freeze where she was. The room was in absolute chaos. “Pietro?” she called out frantically, seeing no sign of her son. Hurriedly, she dashed down the stairs, surveying the chaos. Sure his room was usually messy but this looked like someone had driven a bulldozer through it. Or Peter had run himself ragged within the room. Her foot connected with another canister and she picked it up with a frown before glancing at the date on Peter’s clock. She had missed an entire day there was no doubt about that anymore. But where was her son? Suddenly, she dropped the two canisters and tore up the stairs towards her daughter’s room, “Lorna!” she cried and tore through the hallway to her daughter’s room. She flung the door open to find her youngest sitting up groggily on her bed and relief filled her heart. Though it was short lived. Her eyes landed on the canister in Lorna’s room, it did nothing but confirm to her that something was very very wrong.

            “Mummy?” Lorna asked rubbing her eyes, “What’s wrong muma?” she asked seeing the worry on Magda’s face.

            “Nothing sweetheart.” Magda lied, “Just go back to sleep.”

            “But ‘m not sleepy ‘nymore muma.” Lorna whined looking at her clock. Magda’s eyes drifted that way too. They’d lost an entire day from their lives and her only son was missing.

Magda sighed and took her daughter’s hand in her’s, “Come through sweetheart, I’ll fix you up a midnight snack. How does that sound?” she asked.

            “Yeah!” Lorna grinned happily and jumped out of bed, practically dragging her mother through to the kitchen.

            Magda set about making her daughter some pancakes and, when she was done, popped the plate down in front of Lorna along with a large bottle of maple syrup. “I have to make a few calls sweetheart. Stay here while I do okay.”

            “Mmhmm” Lorna nodded, mouth too full of pancake to form actual words.

            Magda rushed to the telephone table in the hall, making sure to keep her youngest in sight as she pulled a tattered business card out of the drawer and dialled the number with shaking hands.

            “Hello?” answered a posh English voice on the other end of the line.

            “H-hello there. I’m sorry to bother you but my name is Magda, Magda Maximoff and I can’t find my son. Peter told me it would be okay to call you if I needed any help.” she stammered, fit to burst with worry for her son.

            “Don’t worry Mrs Maximoff. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Do you think you’ll be able to hang on for three more hours?” Charles asked over the phone, determined to make it there in half that time, he could clearly hear the fear and worry in her voice.

            “Yes. Yes, I can. Thank you so much.”

            “Lock your doors and windows and stay near your daughter.” Charles advised her, “I’ll ready the car. Hang on tight Mrs Maximoff.”

            “I will. Thank you!” Magda instantly felt better, she glanced over into the kitchen to her daughter and smiled to herself, the little minx had spilled maple syrup all over the table.

            “I’ll see you soon Mrs Maximoff.” Charles assured her and hung up the phone.

            “Hank.” he called out, wheeling himself out into the foyer, “Hank!”

            “Yes Professor?” Hank called out sleepily from the balcony overlooking the entrance hall of the mansion.

            “Ready the car. We need to get to get to the Maximoff house urgently.”

            “On it Professor.” Hank nodded and dashed back into his room to quickly change out of his pyjamas.

            Before long both Hank and Charles were fully dressed and in the car on the way to the Maximoff house.

            “Remind me again why we’re not taking the jet?” Hank asked as he drove.

            “Do you want to try to land a plane in the middle of a city?”

            “Guess not.” Hank nodded with a shrug.

            “Exactly. Now, how far away are we Hank?”

            “Bout four hours. Three if I really push the pedal down. Two if we break every speed limit there it.”

            “Two sounds good to me.” Charles said with a smile.

            “Okay ... but you’re dealing with all the tickets we’re about to get for this.” Hank shook his head as he urged the car to go faster.

            “Naturally.” Charles chuckled.

            After half an hour of speeding down the road in silence Hank piped up again, “So, what exactly happened? Why are we driving back down to the Maximoffs? You didn’t exactly explain you just said ‘ready the car Hank’” Hank pointed out, imitating the Professor’s accent.

            “That’s a terrible impersonation and you know it.” Charles rolled his eyes, “But Peter’s mother called. Apparently he’s missing.”

            “Missing?” Hank asked shocked, “How? Since when? How did his mother even have your number?”

            “Peter gave it to her.” Charles replied, “Told her to call if ever she needed something.”

            “Awfully thoughtful of the kid.” Hank remarked.

            “I do believe there’s more to that boy than meets the eye.”

            Hank shrugged, “He _is_ a pretty interesting kid. What do you think happened to him?”

            “It will do no good to speculate.” the professor shook his head, “It’s better to find out the facts and then decide on a plan of action.”

            “Yeah guess so.” Hank nodded and pushed the car on, forcing it to streak down the almost empty Highway, thank god it was two in the morning not two in the afternoon, otherwise they’d have a much harder time of maintaining their speed if they had to weave through traffic jams the entire way there.

            “I just hope we’re not too late to help.” Charles muttered as he gazed out the window at the passing countryside.”

            Exactly two hours and thirty-seven minutes after Magda had made the phone call the doorbell rang.

            “Stay here sweetie.” she whispered to her daughter and exited the living room before moving to the peephole in the door.

            “It’s me Mrs Maximoff.” Charles’ voice came through the door, “Could you kindly let my friend and I in?”

            “Yes, yes of course.” Magda said peering through the peephole to see the man who had spoken in a wheelchair at the bottom of the steps and a second man stood in front of the door. She fumbled clumsily with the locks, eventually managing to open the door, “You were here for him before. With the tall one with the sideburns.” she said looking at them curiously as she opened the door.

            “Yes, that was us.” Charles nodded, “Hank. If you could be so kind…” he trailed off nodding to the stairs.

            “Scuse me Mrs Maximoff.” Hank said turning his back on her to help Charles’ chair up the three steps.

            “In here please.” Magda said leading the pair through to the living room where her eight-year-old daughter sat on a beanbag reading The Borrowers to herself. “This is my daughter Lorna, Peter’s half-sister.” Magda told them before asking them to please take a seat and if they wanted any tea or coffee.

            “Coffee would be wonderful Magda. Thank you.” Charles said kindly before wheeling himself over to Lorna, “Hello there.” he smiled kindly at her as Hank awkwardly perched on a sofa.

            “Hi.” Lorna said folding down the corner of her page before looking up.

            “That’s an excellent book you’re reading there.”

            “Muma says I’m smart because I’m eight and I can read big chapter books in English.” Lorna replied proudly.

            “Well your mother is right.” Charles smiled down at her, “What other languages do you know?” he asked the girl, after all, she had specified ‘in English’ which indicated to the young professor that she may well know more than just English.

            “Romani.” Lorna replied, “Muma speaks it to me sometimes. Big brother Pietro, no. Sorry. Peter.” she shook her head, correcting herself, “He speaks it to me sometimes.”

            “Pietro?” Hank asked from the sofa.

            “Muma says I’m not supposed to call him that. She says they’ll be mean to him if they find out.” Lorna explained in a very self-assured voice, “What’s your name Mister?”

            “Charles,” he replied, “Charles Xavier.”

            “That’s a funny name.” she remarked, “I’m Lorna.”

            “That’s a lovely name.” Charles smiled kindly at her as Magda re-entered the room with a tray bearing three cups of coffee and a mug of hot chocolate.

            She set the tray down on the coffee table, handing Lorna her hot chocolate before passing Charles and Hank their mugs and picking up her own one and eventually sitting back down on the sofa.

            “I don’t think I caught your names…” Magda said nervously.

            “My name is Charles Xavier, founder of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. And this is my colleague, Hank McCoy.”

            Hank smiled shyly and nodded.

            “Now. Could you tell us what happened, I promise we will do all we can to find your son?”

            Magda nodded, “Wait here.” she said setting her coffee down before hurrying back into the kitchen to collect the three canisters she’d found, after rushing back into the living room she set them down on the coffee table and sat back down on the sofa. “I went to bed on the 19th thinking everything was fine and I woke up at one this morning, the 21st. At first I thought it was Peter just playing a prank and screwing about with the date on my clock but… but then I found one of those on the floor in my room beneath the window. I thought Peter had maybe dropped it when he changed the date on my clock but…”

            “But that’s not what happened was it.” Charles asked, face full of concern.

            Magda shook her head, “I went down to his room and…” she shook her head, “His clock read this date as well and I know he wouldn’t have changed his own, he’s dreadful at keeping track of time as is, he wouldn’t purposefully confuse himself. And… and I found another one of these in the room.” she said indicating to the canister Hank was now holding in his hand, “And… and his room was a tip. Not the usual teenage boy mess though.” she quickly added, “The sort of mess that would happen after a fight or something. I ran up to Lorna’s room and saw the date again, and then I saw the third one.”

            “Can you show us his room?” Charles asked kindly.

            Magda nodded, “Follow me.” she said standing up, abandoning her mug of coffee on the arm of the sofa, “I’ll just be a minute Lorna, stay here ‘til I get back okay?”

Lorna nodded and went back to her book, lifting the oversized mug of hot chocolate to her lips.

Madga lead them down the hallway, “It uh… it’s downstairs if you remember from your last visit.” she told them, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Xavier in such a short space      of time. It had only been a year since he was last here with Hank and the other muscular one.

            “That won’t be an issue.” Charles assured her, “Hank will go down, I’ll wait at the top.”

            “O-okay.” Magda nodded and pulled Peter’s door open.

            Hank made his way slowly down the stairs into the destroyed room. A broken arcade game lay on its side in the centre of the room and the piles of boxes that had presumably been stacked by the window had toppled, sweets littering the floor. The windows were wide open but as Hank moved to close them he noticed the smear of a sweaty handprint against the glass. He glanced back towards Charles and the telepath soon entered his mind.

 _What have you found?_ Charles asked.

_Handprint. And this destruction would not have happened unless the kid was either fighting someone, or he was running around in a panic. The latter looks more likely right now._

_What could have gotten him so riled up?_

_The metal cylinder, I’m pretty sure it was designed to release a gas into the room._ Hank explained.

_A gas that would knock someone out for twenty-four hours…_

_Exactly._ Hank agreed.

            Charles looked up at Magda, a frown creasing his handsome face, “I fear those cylinders you found may have been used to gas your family.” he told her. It wouldn’t be right to keep this from her, even if it would worry her.

            “But… but why?” Madge asked confused, she was certain she’d managed to keep Peter’s secret, why would people take him?

            “I understand that you may think you kept your son’s secret but believe me it’s a very hard one to keep. Whoever took him must have known exactly who and what he was.” Charles explained.

            “How did you…?”

            “I’m a mutant too. As is Hank.”

            “So… what you’re a telepath?” Magda asked.

            “Precisely.” Charles nodded, “And I fear the same as you. I fear your son may have been taken because of his abilities. But I don’t think that there was anything you could have done to prevent his identity from being discovered. It was only a matter of time. You can’t shield him forever. So you mustn’t blame this on yourself.”

            “Can you help him?” Magda asked desperately.

            “I won’t make promises I don’t know I can keep. But can assure you I will do my upmost to return him to you unharmed.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter 3. Hope you enjoy and if you do please drop me a comment!

Peter had always hated being picked up and carried. This time was no different. But he knew that if he acted up one more time he was almost certainly signing the death warrants of his mother and sister and so he stayed still, scowling to himself as a soldier carried him through the compound in a fireman’s lift. After he’d given in to Stryker he’d had his grey shirt forcibly cut from his body and ripped in half, one half was scrunched up and shoved into his mouth while the other was wrapped around his head, blindfolding him. They still hadn’t removed the gag or the blindfold and Peter was growing increasingly frustrated at having no idea where he was or what time it was or what was going to happen to him. He could hear the echoing of the soldier's footsteps as they moved through the cold hallways towards wherever it was they were going. He heard the soldier swiping a key card and unlocking a door, which clicked open seconds later. He was harshly thrown to the ground, head smacking against the cold concrete. Peter groaned from behind the gag as the soldier roughly grabbed a chunk of his silver hair and pulled his head forwards. Something cold and unwelcome was fastened around his neck, but no matter how hard he tried to protest, the rough hand held him in place until the job was done.

"Don't move." The soldier growled roughly before exiting the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a clank. Peter could hear keys in the locks and sagged back against the floor with a sigh. What the fuck sort of mess had he gotten himself into now... his mum would kill him for this, if he actually survived it.

A couple of hours later, Stryker entered Peter’s cell and strode over to where the boy was huddled on the floor. The kid looked like he was shaking, no, he was vibrating.

"Rise and shine Maximoff."

"Go screw yourself." Peter muttered through the gag, though all that could be heard were disgruntled muffles.

Stryker ignored his reply and stuck his hands under the kid's armpits before dragging him across the room. Peter thrashed wildly but couldn't shake Stryker’s iron grip no matter what he tried, he was a blur of motion but with his hands and feet still bound, he wasn’t going anywhere fast. Stryker dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and soon felt calloused hands holding his feet down, "Don't struggle." Stryker warned him with venom in his voice, he unlocked the cuffs around Peter’s ankles and stowed them into his pocket before moving on to the cuffs around the kid's wrists.

Peter lay there in confusion as his limbs were freed, maybe he'd be able to make a break for it, he mused. Just then another, thicker, clunkier, heavier, set of cuffs were fastened around his wrists, though these two didn't seem to be joined together. He couldn't know for sure, however, until the blindfold was removed. He could feel the man's weight crushing down on his chest as he straddled him to keep him in place, Stryker’s hand gripped Peter’s jaw with bone-crushing strength and yanked out the gag. But before he could even get one word out, Stryker’s other hand was covering his mouth and nose, blocking off his air supply.

"Now listen now and listen close." Stryker hissed, "You eat the food I've left for you. Then you sit there quietly until I give you further instructions. Understood?"

Peter nodded frantically, he couldn't get enough air into his lungs and was beginning to panic slightly. Okay, slightly was an understatement. He was beginning to panic a lot. Thankfully, Stryker removed his hand and roughly tore off the blindfold as he stood up. The harsh white light assaulted his eyes as it bore down on him from the fluorescent strips overhead.

"You better eat all of it. I need you at your full strength, Maximoff." Stryker ordered as he made his way to the door and pulled it open. Peter watched his movements carefully and slowly stood up.

The second the door began to open, Peter was running towards it. But this was another escape plan he really hadn’t thought through. The manacles around his wrist were connected to a ring on the floor by a chain; he only managed to move two metres forwards before the chains halted him.

Stryker smirked at him and he exited the room, "Gotta try harder than that kid." He said as he pulled the door closed and locked it. He shook his head with a chuckle as he heard Peter’s screams of frustration from within the locked room.

He looked around the room, rubbing the back of his head with a frown. If this was his ‘cell’ then it was the weirdest one he’d ever seen, that’s for sure – not that he’d seen any in real life, he was too quick to be caught by the regular police. One wall was simply a large mirror and as he gazed at his reflection he could see how scrappy he already looked, his silver hair was matted with blood and dirt and his shirtless body was pale and shivering. Around his neck, in a striking contrast with his pale skin, was a leather collar. He reached a tentative hand up to it and, reaching around the back of his neck, found his fingers came into contact with a small plastic box. He reached for the buckle on the side of his neck only to find that the collar was secured with two plastic zip-ties and a small metal padlock. He’d seen these used before, but on dogs… not people. Stryker had ordered that soldier to force him into a shock collar. Peter pulled frantically at the padlock, but the fucking thing wouldn’t budge. This couldn’t be happening; it simply couldn’t be happening. Except it was and, for once, Peter had no idea how to get out of this mess.

            “No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Peter yelled, enraged, “You prick! You sick fuck! You…” he trailed off, interrupted by a painful growl from his stomach, reminding him how hungry he really was. His eyes landed on a tray of food on the floor and as he sat down and began to eat he noticed the large treadmill reflected behind him in the mirror. Carefully, Peter stood up, burger in hand, and moved over to inspect it. The manacles he’d been shoved into upon entering the room were chained to the floor ring at the front of the machine. They wanted him to run then, Peter frowned as he finished off his first burger and started on the second. He hadn't been given nearly enough food to get his body back up to full strength. On normal days he would have to eat at least five before he was even remotely close to being at one hundred percent. Stryker didn't seem to know that though, it didn't seem like the guy had even done any research before kidnapping him.

            Stryker watched the boy from behind the one-way glass, smirking to himself as the kid inspected the machine.

            “Now that you’ve figured it out, Maximoff. Get on the machine.” he said into a microphone and his voice echoed into Peter’s prison.

            Peter looked up, finally noticing the speakers in each of the four corners of the ceiling, “You know, I thought you were smarter than this, Dickwad. I run way faster than a normal treadmill can cope with.” he said staring at the glass having just figured out it wasn’t just a mirror, but one-way glass and that Stryker was on the other side watching him. Talk about stalkerish.

            “And I thought you were smarter than that, Maximoff. Get on the machine and you’ll see how quickly it can move.”

            “What if I don’t want to?” Peter objected as his stomach gave a dissatisfied gurgle.

            “Then you’ll have to quit acting like a whiney little bitch and do it anyway. I can get a lot of the answers I need by simply doing an autopsy, I hope I don’t have to explain to you what that is.”

            “I’m not stupid I know what it is.” Peter snapped back, “If I get on your stupid freaking treadmill will you bring me more food?” he asked, “I don’t have an unlimited energy supply here, and I don’t think you really want me to collapse of starvation right here right now do you? Two burgers is nowhere near enough, didn’t you even do any research? Seriously man I expected better from you. You can threaten me with an autopsy as much as you like, Titface, but I know you wouldn’t’a gone to all that trouble of gettin’ me here to let me die on your skanky floor before you’d even got to run any tests. I’m more use to you alive and we both fucking know it. So I’ll have five burgers with three large portions of fries on the side as well as a bottle of fizz and a tub of mint-choc-chip ice cream. Oh, and a spoon.”

            “You don’t get to make negotiations here Peter.” Stryker said with chilling calm in his voice, “You get on the machine, you run, then you’ll get what I give you. If I decide to give your pampered ass anything after that.”

            Peter frowned and climbed onto the machine, never taking his eyes off of where he assumed Stryker to be standing behind the glass. “You’d better not forget about dessert.” he huffed as Stryker switched on the machine. It started off painstakingly slowly but quickly gathered speed. Stryker watched from behind the glass as the kid’s legs gradually became a blur. This was even better than he’d hoped. He cranked up the speed even higher and still Peter fought on, powering through each step. Exhaustion was slowly beginning to creep up on him and the lack of enough food wasn’t making it any better. How long had it been? He wasn’t too sure, certainly longer than he usually ran for. He could do this… he could keep going. His foot lost traction with the belt and suddenly nohecouldreallynotkeepgoing. He faceplanted into the belt and rolled off the side as far away from the machine as the chains would let him. He groaned as he tried to move, chest aching from friction burn. His head began to swim as his body caught onto the fact that he was completely depleted of energy and he rested it back against the cool hard floor. Peter managed to flip the mirror off before passing out from complete and utter exhaustion.

            “You know, maybe you actually should feed the kid what he asked for, Sir. He’s not going to survive off one box meal a day.” Merriot spoke up only to be silenced by a look from Stryker.

            “Did I ask for your opinion, Merriot?”

            “No, Sir.” Merriot replied looking at the ground sheepishly.

            “Then get out.” Stryker snapped and the soldier quickly took his leave.

            He switched off the treadmill, recording its final speed in a leatherbound notebook before tucking the notebook and pen back into an inside pocket of his jacket and exiting the control room. The kid had spirit he had to admit, but it was also getting on his nerves. He’d let the little punk have the last laugh today as he sent for a soldier to retrieve the kid’s fast food order. But after that he wouldn’t be nearly so warm-hearted.

Peter awoke at around the same time his mother was phoning Charles, not that he knew that of course. Grumbling and aching he sat up and leant against the treadmill. He’d actually fallen off it. He couldn’t believe he’d actually tripped up. How had he not been able to keep up with it? The grumbling of his stomach answered for him and a scent of something familiar caught his nostrils, he turned towards the door to see what it was. To his delight, sitting there were four burgers and two portions of regular fries. No ice-cream through. No matter, he’d take what he could get. If he could even get to it at all. The food was by the door and he was attached to the fucking floor of all things. He lay down on his stomach, relieved to find that his friction burns had almost all but healed. He inched his way backwards towards the food, trying to catch the corner of the tray with his toe as he strained against the chains. Peter’s toe finally caught onto the corner of the tray and he was able to inch it towards him. He made painstakingly slow progress until he managed to get the tray in such a position that he could just kick it into his hands. His gut growled angrily at him before he picked up a, now cold, burger and wolfed it down. And the next, and the next, and the next. The fries were gone in a blur and soon Peter leaned against the treadmill with a satisfied sigh. If nothing, he’d at least been able to convince them to feed him right. For that moment that was enough. But only for that moment.

            The next moment however Peter was up and on his feet, yanking furiously at the chains, trying to detach them from the ground but to no avail. “Son of a bitch!” Peter yelled, storming back around the treadmill before lashing out and kicking the tray into the mirror. Nothing. It did fucking nothing. He hadn’t expected it to shatter or anything but he’d at least been expecting it to do something.

            “Let. Me. Out!” he yelled at the mirror. Was anyone even there? He sagged down onto the belt of the treadmill in a grump. It was probably three in the fucking morning or something. W Stryker was probably curled up in bed sucking his thumb or whatever dickbrained arseholes like him did in their spare time. After what felt like a decade of waiting around not sleeping, a voice came through the intercom.

            “Good morning, Maximoff. Enjoy your meal?” Stryker asked in a sickeningly polite manner.

            “You forgot the ice-cream.” Peter snarked back. Morning? How much time had passed since he'd been taken?

            “You fucked up.” Stryker replied, “I don’t think fuck-ups like you really merit the luxury of dessert.”

            That one hit home. If it wasn’t bad enough to already think of himself as a fuck-up, now he had to be taunted by a dickbag who thought he was one too. Peter didn’t look up at the mirror, simply flipped it off in response.

            “You will treat your superiors with more respect.” Stryker snarled, “Now get running.”

            “Go stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Peter spat, “I’ve run for you once, that not enough?”

            “I was rather hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” Stryker said with a smirk as he pressed a button on the remote in his hand.

            “Come to wh--” Peter was cut off by a scream that was wrenched from his throat. Electricity tore through his body from the collar, “All right! All right! Stop! I’ll do it!” he wheezed as he dropped to his knees from the pain. It lasted for what felt to him like an eternity, though in reality it was only a few dozen seconds.

            Eventually, Stryker lifted his thumb from the button, chuckling to himself as he saw the boy on the floor, “Everything moves so slowly for you doesn’t it?” he asked, although it was more of a statement, “Fast is your natural state isn’t it? So… what, did that feel like an hour to you? A day?”

Peter was breathing heavily as he leant against the treadmill, “Something like that.” he muttered, keen to get Stryker to shut up. He could hear the man’s bullshit smirk in his voice and it was pissing him off more and more.

            “Get on the treadmill. And run.” Stryker instructed threateningly, “Or I might be tempted to leave that collar on for a whole minute.”

            Peter nodded and stood up shakily, body dripping with sweat, “Calm your tits, I’m doing it.” he muttered climbing back onto the treadmill. Stryker switched it on, and he began to run.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with this chapter and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I thought I may as well post it to see what you think. I may come back to edit it in the future but if I do I'll be sure to let you know with notes in future chapters.  
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Right this way, Agents.” Sergeant Maaram Kibe said, seemingly untroubled by their untimely arrival, as she opened the door for the two federal agents. Agent Xavier lead the way as Agent McCoy followed behind, “What files is it you need access to again?” she asked, “I’ll set up an office for you just down here and then I can go grab them for you.” she said with a wide smile, “It’s still pretty early so no one else will be in to use the room for at least another three hours.” she added.

            “Missing persons cases going back a year and access to all traffic security footage for the state.” Charles told her, “Is that doable?” he asked.

            “Sure. No problemo. You two just hang tight in here and I’ll be back in a jiffy.” she said cheerfully as she pushed open the meeting room door, “You two want any coffee, tea?” she asked.

            “No, thank you. We’ll be fine.” Hank told her shaking his head as he followed Charles into the room. He didn’t doubt Charles’ powers or anything, but he couldn’t help but feel nervous. But from the second Charles’ had made the desk sergeant believe he’d seen their IDs things had gone off without a hitch. The professor had even been making everyone think that they were wearing suits so as to “look more official and genuine”.

            “Okay dokey.” she said disappearing out the door, only to return five minutes later with two boxes full of paper which she promptly handed to Hank, “I’ll just get you two cats onto the system and then I’ll be out of your hair.” she said moving over to the computer and typing in a password. In a flurry of movement and the tip-tapping of keys she had pulled up the traffic camera security footage from the entire state for them, “If you need anything I’ll be at the front desk.” she said cheerfully before disappearing out of the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

            “Okay Hank. We need to move quickly, you take the computer. I’ll start looking for similar reports to Peter’s disappearance. There’s a high chance that a similar thing is happening to what Trask did. I hate to say it but if we find out that more people were taken then we have a much higher chance of finding them than if it was only Peter.”

            “When we do figure out where he is though, how are we going to get him out. This kidnapping was planned with military precision.” Hank pointed out, “Which means wherever he is it’s probably heavily guarded.”

            “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Hank.” Charles said shaking his head, he honestly had no idea what he’d do either. He couldn’t very well go charging in, he was in a wheelchair for god’s sake.

            Hank nodded, “If you say so professor.” he mumbled before focusing his attention back onto the screen. He began his search in Peter’s neighbourhood with was disappointed to find that the traffic cameras in the area were very few and far between. He supposed that they hadn’t seen fit to amp up the security of a leafy suburb. He cast a glance back at Charles to find him already dialing up the family of the first missing person on the list.

            “Hello there, sorry to bother you but my name is Charles Xavier from the FBI and I have a few questions regarding your daughter, Elizabeth’s, disappearance.”

            Hank turned back to the screen and began to flick through camera’s trying to find something, anything, to indicate the kid’s whereabouts.

            A frustrating hour passed but, to Hank’s delight, he’d managed to find something.

            “Professor, I think I’ve got something.” Hank said spinning around on his chair to face Charles who had just hung up the phone.

            “Don’t keep me in suspense then, Hank.” Charles said jokingly as he wheeled himself over to the computer, “What did you find?”

            On the screen was a slightly blurred, slightly dark image of a parade of three military vehicles driving down the road away from the Maximoff’s neighbourhood. “I’ve looked and I can’t find any other reason for them to be driving through there. And I followed them through the cameras until I found this.” Hank said, switching to another frame. This one showed the rear hood of the centre vehicle flying off, but in the shadows, if Hanks zoomed in, a figure could be made out within the darkness of the trunk.

            “By god… that’s Peter isn’t it?”

            “Think so, professor.” Hank nodded, “I’ll try and follow the parade through the cameras. What did you find out on your end?” he asked.

            “At least twenty other mutants have gone missing, no specific age range but it is possible that, with the younger mutants, some of the missing persons may be simply run-aways. Something we should focus on at a later date. But for now we should assume that they were all taken by the same men who took Peter.” Charles told him, brow furrowed in concern for the mutants, “Similar gas canisters were found at six people’s homes. I highly doubt that is a coincidence.”

            “No, it’s not. So we know for sure there are at least six other mutants there, with the possibility of at least fourteen more.” Hank said as he followed the military vehicles through the traffic cameras, “Shit. I’ve lost them, professor, they’ve left the state. Headed east.”

            Charles frowned, “Back to the car, Hank. We need to get back to cerebro. I may be able to find Peter and the other mutants through it.”

            “You sure you’re okay to use it?” Hank asked worriedly.

            “No,” Charles admitted, “Which is why I didn’t suggest it before. But now I fear we have no other choice.”

            Hank frowned but obliged. He stood up and lead the way back down the hallways, opening the doors for the professor as he went.

            “You got what you needed?” Sergeant Kibe asked as they were on their way out the main door.

            “Everything we needed, thank you Sergeant.” Charles said politely as he wheeled himself down the ramp.

            “Good luck with your missing people!” she called as they left before returning to her menial duties with a sigh.

            Before long Charles and Hank were speeding down the road, breaking every speed limit in existence as they tore towards the mansion. Charles was leaning with is head against the window and two fingers pressed towards his temple.

            “What are you doing?” Hank asked casting a quick glance towards him before returning his focus to the road.

            “Trying to find Raven.” Charles told him, the “or Erik” remained unsaid as Charles knew of Hanks distaste towards that particular mutant. But if he was to be perfectly honest with himself, Erik might just be the person they needed to find Peter and the other missing mutants. He wasn’t going to be much help without his legs. Surprisingly enough, as they drove back towards Westchester, Charles’ mind came into contact with the very mind he’d touched in the water eleven years ago. Erik’s.

 _Erik?_ Charles asked tentatively, why wasn’t the man wearing his helmet? Not that he wanted him to wear his helmet, it was just a tad surprising.

 _What the devil are you doing inside my head Charles?_ Erik snapped back, _Don’t make me start wearing my helmet in the shower too._

 _Oh gosh I’m sorry Erik._ Charles babbled, clearly embarrassed, _How about you get out of the shower so we can talk?_

_Why should I want to talk to you, Charles?_

_I need your help, that’s why._ Charles snapped.

_You need my help? I thought you’d sworn to never approach me with a problem ever again after what happened at the White House last year. It wasn’t my intention to trap you beneath the rubble, just in case you were holding a grudge about that._

_Shut up, Erik. And listen. Remember Peter? The kid who broke you out of the Pentagon?_

            Erik paused, _Him? I never did catch his name. What’s he done now?_

_He’s missing that’s what. And I’ll need your help to get him back._

_Why is this of any concern to me? Why can’t big blue take care of the rescue mission? Or is he too scared?_

            Charles elected to ignore Erik’s jibe at Hank and pressed on, _It’s not just him who’s missing.         At least six, other mutants are too. The kid was taken away in a military Jeep._

 _Where are you?_ Erik demanded.

            Charles rattled off his and Hank’s location to him, _I take it this means you’ll help?_

_I’ll be at the mansion by the time you get there._

_Wouldn’t it be easier if we picked you up?_

_I’m not putting my life in the hands of your furry friend by sitting in the car with him._

_I never told you he was in the car._

_You can’t drive with those legs Charles. And it’s obvious he wouldn’t have let you go all the way to DC alone. I may not be a telepath, but I do have a brain. Now get out of my head Charles and let me finish my shower, I’ll meet you at the mansion._

_Were you in the shower throughout that entire conversation?_ Charles asked blushing.

_Yes Charles, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed over having a telepathic conversation with a naked man. Now get out while I get changed._

_I’ll see you soon Erik, please go put on some clothes._ Charles muttered before severing their connection.

“So?” Hank asked turning to look at him, “You find her?”

“No.” Charles said shaking his head, “I couldn’t find her.”

"There's a but coming isn't there...?" Hank asked with a frown.

"But I found Erik."

"No! No way are you bringing him along! He nearly killed you last time we asked him for help!"

"Hank we don't have much choice. I'll need you to fly the jet when we locate them and Raven has dropped off the radar."

"So had Lehnsherr!" Hank protested, "How could you even find him? Wasn't he wearing his helmet?"

"If you must know, he was in the shower."

"I’ve changed my mind. I didn't want to know."

"Thought not." Charles said with a light chuckle.

"Don't tell me we have to pick him up though...." Hank whined.

"He feels the same way about riding in the car with you as you do with him." Charles told him, "He'll meet us there."

"Thank heavens for that." Hank said letting out a sigh of relief.

By the time they arrived back at the mansion it was already noon and Erik was waiting outside for them. He was sat calmly on a metal bench with a pair of sunglasses propped up on top of his head as he read a book. His helmet was sat on top of his leather suitcase, which lay on the gravel by his feet. He folded the corner of the page he was on and set the book back down onto his suitcase as he stood up.

"Charles." He greeted warmly as Hank helped him from the car to the wheelchair, "And Hank." He said, voice a little less bright.

"We've wasted enough time already Erik, there's no time for pleasantries." Charles wait shaking his head as he wheeled himself towards the steps leading up to the main door. He wheeled himself up the ramp and glanced back to Erik, indicating to him to follow. Erik picked up his book and followed after Charles, helmet and suitcase floating through the air behind him. Hank scowled as the self-assured mutant walked into the mansion as though he owned it and reluctantly followed behind.

Once they were all they were, all three of them, settled into the study Erik spoke up as he poured himself a brandy.

“Tell me everything.” he said as he took a seat on a comfy leather armchair.

“I received a call from Peter’s mother, Madga Maximoff, at two this morning. The woman was in a panic, she couldn’t find her son.” Charles began.

“Magda. Magda Maximoff?” Erik asked, somewhat in shock though doing his best to hide it.

“Does that name mean something to you?” Charles asked frowning.

“Stay out of my head or I’m gone.” Erik snapped, “You can carry out this rescue mission without my help.”

“I won’t read your mind.” Charles promised and continued to explain everything that had happened and that they had discovered up to the point of Charles contacting Erik.

“You had better not do that again, Charles. I would quite like to be able to not wear my helmet in the shower.”

“I already apologised. And believe me it is not somewhere I want to have a conversation again.” Charles huffed before wheeling himself out of the room towards the lifts that Hank had installed.

“Are you quite sure you’re capable of using Cerebro?” Erik asked as he followed him and Hank into the spacious elevator.

“I’m not an invalid Erik.” Charles said curtly, “I can handle it.” he assured him as the lift trundled to a halt and the doors slid smoothly open. Hank led them down the corridor towards the room that housed the great machine, the trio pausing as Charles carries out the retinal scan. The door greeted him and swung open, revealing Cerebro. Charles wheeled himself inside and Erik made to follow but was stopped by Hank.

“No. He stays here.”

Erik opened his mouth to protest but a look from Charles stopped him, “We’ll be out in a moment Erik, just stay there.” he said as the door slipped closed.

Charles pulled the wired helmet on over his mop of hair and Hank flicked the switches that brought the machine to life. The telepath gripped the armrests of his wheelchair as every mind suddenly became one with his. He sifted through them, searching for Peter or any one of the other mutants he suspected had also been taken.

Erik waited expectantly outside the room, pissed off at having been refused access although he did understand the reasons for Beast’s hostility towards him. The door slid open and Charles rolled out, disappointment evident on his face.

“No luck?” Erik asked.

Charles shook his head, “I couldn’t find him. Although I did find an area where I couldn’t access. It’s as though this place is lined with the same thing Shaw used to make his helmet or what he used to protect his nuclear reactor.”

Erik stiffened at the mention of Shaw’s name though he knew Charles hadn’t brought it up with the intent of dredging up bad memories, no, he was far too kind hearted to hurt someone deliberately.

“We did, however, manage to narrow it down to a fifteen-mile radius.” Hank piped up, “I know it’s not great but it’s better than nothing.”

“But you’re not sure that Peter and the other mutants are actually there?” Erik asked with a frown.

“No, Erik.” Charles shook his head, “But right now our best bet is to hope they are. Ready the jet, Hank. we leave in five.”

“You don’t even know if they’re there Charles.” Erik scowled as he walked beside his old friend back towards the lift.

“No, but unlike you I’m trying to be optimistic. It’s been 33 hours since he went missing, god only knows what could have happened to the boy in that time.” Charles said pausing by the elevator, “You won’t need your helmet, Erik.” he said, “It’s best we get to the jet right away.”

Erik paused after pushing the ‘up’ button, “I don’t want you in my head, Charles.”

“Erik, I can’t go in and fight. I’ll need to communicate with you whilst you’re in there.” Charles reminded him, “Please, Erik. Let’s go.”

“I’ll be back to collect it after this is all over.” Erik said curtly, turning away from the open doors, “Lead the way.”

Charles nodded and led him towards their aircraft hangar, “Thank you, Erik.”

The pair moved in silence for a few moments before Erik spoke once more, “When did you carry out all this construction work?” he asked.

“When you were in prison.”

“Before you went on your ‘five-year bender’?”

“Yes Erik, before that.” Charles huffed sounding mildly irritated.

“I’m impressed.” Erik said with a nod of approval, “It’s almost as though you were preparing for war.”

“After what you did, shooting the president, Cuba. I was left with little choice.” Charles scowled up at him, “I realised that I had to teach my students how to defend themselves, as well as to not start wars.” he said looking pointedly up at Erik, “Like a certain someone I know who can’t keep his bloody head out of trouble.”

“Aw, you care.” Erik teased, “I’m touched Charles.” he chuckled as the pair entered the vast aircraft hangar, in the centre of which, stood the jet with Hank outside dressed in an improved, black leather, version of his bulletproof suits.

“I could probably find one that fit you…” Hank muttered as he passed the professor his own bulletproof jacket.

“I have my own body armour; you needn’t concern yourself.” Erik said sharply and motioned behind him, for a minute nothing happened until the trio heard the ping of the lift and in flew Erik’s suitcase and helmet, “Don’t worry Charles, I’ll stay true to my promise.” he said as he boarded the plane and dropped his things onto an armchair.

Charles gazed at him with a light frown before turning back to Hank after having pulled on his jacket, “Hank, if you could.” he said nodding to the stairs of the plane.

“Allow me.” Erik said and, with a click of his fingers, floated Charles’ chair up into the aircraft. Hank scowled up at him as he finally boarded the plane. He hated every ounce of that guy’s cocky overconfidence, he was perfectly capable of helping Charles into the plane. He didn’t need some metal-bending dickbag to do it for him.

Charles rolled his eyes as he wheeled himself into position and Hank moved into the cockpit, closing the door behind him, “That really wasn’t necessary. Hank could have done it.”

“I was saving time.” Erik said with a shrug as he took a seat opposite Charles.

Hank flashed on the seatbelts sign to indicate to his two passengers that he was ready to take off. The ceiling of the hangar opened up above them and the plane rose gracefully into the air before soaring off into the blue summer sky. As soon as the plane was stable Erik stood up and pulled off his jacket and shirt, flipping open the metal buckles of his suitcase with his mind. He discarded the top he’d been wearing and jacket onto the backrest of the armchair and pulled on a tight fitting black shirt before mentally moving the body armour into the air and arranging it around his body. He clicked it together into place, leaving the cape and helmet alone as he shoved the clothes he’s been wearing before back into the suitcase. The cape was for public demonstrations more than anything, and as for the helmet, well, he had made a promise, and for now intended to keep it up.

“You are frustratingly self-assured.” Charles said shaking his head as he rolled his eyes.

“Like what you see?” Erik smirked.

“Shut up Erik.” Charles muttered, deciding that the sky outside the window was suddenly very very interesting.

“I’m sorry, would you rather I had gone into the bathroom to change my shirt and then put on my armour?” Erik asked mockingly, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m not listening to you Erik.” Charles said, his attention still focused on the sky outside.

"Of course you're not. How very British of you."

"Can we focus on the mission at hand please?" Charles asked turning back to face him, “We need a plan of action. You can't just go barging in there."

"Who's to say I can't?" Erik asked.

"Erik, think this through. Anyone who's taking mutants against their freewill will know to keep a few plastic guns with glass or plastic bullets on site just in case you come calling. You've built up a reputation for yourself. It would be wise to remember that."

"Point taken." Erik said with a curt nod, "Then what do you propose I do? Well, Mr Think It Through? What's the plan?"

"I'm half tempted to have you throw yourself out the bloody plane." Charles muttered, earning him a smirk from Erik, "We find the quietest way in and you disable whatever is blocking me out without killing anyone please. I don't want any more of your murders to be on my conscience."

"I can't promise you that Charles. You know I can't."

"Erik please."

Erik sighed, shaking his head, "Fine. I'll incapacitate them. But if I deem it necessary to kill then I will and you won't stop me Charles."

"I could."

"But you won't. You try so hard to see nothing but the good in people! Some people are evil to the core and deserve no mercy." Erik shook his head with a sigh, "I'm leaving my helmet with you, Charles. I'm trusting you to let me make my own decisions. The least you can do is respect that."

"I won't let you murder anyone Erik. Not in cold blood." Charles said shaking his head, "Erik, this is not what we should be fighting over. We should be formulating a plan."

Erik shook his head, sagging back into his chair with a sigh, "Do you want the block down first or the mutants freed?"

"The block. I'll be able to control those inside and free the mutants through them."

"Of course you will." Erik muttered glancing out the window, "How far out are we?"

"Half an hour." Charles replied, "I just checked with Hank." he added, "What does the name Maximoff mean to you?"

"That's my business, not yours." Erik replied harshly.

"I was simply asking, I noticed your reaction earlier and I -- "

"Well don't." Erik cut him off, "And don't go looking for your answers inside my head either."

"I already told you I wouldn't enter your mind unless I had to." Charles reminded with a sigh.

Erik didn't reply, he simply relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes as memories of Magda and the blissful time they spent together came flooding back to him.

Erik was roused from his thoughts twenty minutes later as Hank's voice came flooding in through the PA system, "I can see one large facility within the zone, would we try there?"

Charles glanced at Erik who sat up and gave him a nod, _If you could please, Hank. That would be great._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Hope you're all still enjoying it!

Peter leant against the treadmill breathing heavily. He wasn't used to getting tired out by running. But when forced to go at it solidly for the past two or so hours, he could feel the exertion taking its toll on his body. His cell door clicked open and Stryker entered, a malicious smile plastered onto his face. Two soldiers entered from behind him and marched straight towards Peter.

"Whoa, hey. What do you want?" He asked backing away from the soldiers in a blur, as far as his chains would allow.

"Are you going to behave? Or am I going to have to make you?" Stryker asked holding up the remote for the collar in his hand.

"Chill man. There's no need to use that. No need. Just put it away." Peter said, eyes widening in fear. He wanted more than anything to keep running out of the way of the men, but knew that if he kept it up he'd end up a writhing mess on the floor.

The two guards roughly grabbed an arm each, forcing his manacled wrists out towards Stryker who skilfully unlocked the chains. He allowed the links of metal to drop to the floor as he clamped another, shorter chain, onto the metal cuffs, trapping the kid's hands together tightly. One guard stood behind him, arms looped around the kid's elbows as he pinned him against his gorilla body, keeping him still with inhuman strength.

"What ... What are you..." His confused protests were cut short by a rough hand gripping his hair and forcing his silver head back as the other guard shoved a rag into his mouth.

“Peter, your protestations are going to end up giving me a headache they’re so repetitive.”

Peter tried to shake off both men's grips, only to receive nothing but excruciating pain as electricity coursed through his body. He sagged in the gorilla guard's iron grip, screaming in pain from behind the gag. After a painfully long ten seconds the electric pulse was cut off, eliciting a pained groan of relief from the young mutant. A cold sheen of sweat glistened on his pale body as he took several deep breaths into his aching lungs, trying to steady his heart respiration rates. He could hear the foggy sound of tape being ripped from a roll and could feel rough hands on his jaw, forcing his head to stay still as the tape was fastened over his mouth. His vision fuzzed and blurred and, as the two soldiers went to pull him to his feet, and slowly became nothing but darkness. The soldiers took an arm each, following their leader out of the room with the dead weight of the speedster being dragged along the floor between them. The heavy sounds of breathing the kid was making through his nose was the only thing that confirmed to them that he was still alive, thank heavens for that. If they'd been dragging the literal dead weight of the boy between them then serious repercussions would befall them both. Regardless of the fact that it would have been by Stryker's hand that the boy would have met his end.

The pair dragged the boy down the hallway, head lolling uselessly forwards and his trainer-covered feet squeaking as they were dragged down a flight of stairs. With the swipe of a card, a heavy steel door was opened by Stryker, and the soldiers followed him in, dragging the Maximoff boy with them.

Stryker walked around the other side of the metal table and tapped it impatiently, signalling for them to strap him down as Stryker pulled on a white lab coat and pulled out his leather-bound notebook, placing it down gently on the counter.

"Dismissed." He told the soldiers once the chain linking the manacles had been removed and the kid strapped, spread eagle, to the table, gaffa tape still securing the gag in place. He turned to face the two doctors in the room with a smile, "He's all yours. But I don’t want him dead quite yet, remember that this time." Stryker said leaning casually against the wall, "He could prove to be a very useful asset."

"Yes, Sir." Nodded the two women before setting about their business.

Dr Abi Taylor motioned to her colleague, Dr Sophia de Sousa Alves, to prep the syringes whilst she set up the equipment to carry out the blood examinations. Taylor approached the boy, wheeling the tray of needles and tubes with her, before picking up a needle and easing it into the vein in the crook of the boy's elbow. Thick red blood flowed freely into the tube and, one it was full, she switched it out for a fresh one, clipping it onto the needle in his arm. Once she had seven vials of the kid's blood, she pulled out the needle and, using a puff of cotton wool, dabbed at the puncture wound until it stopped bleeding.

Peter groggily awoke as she wheeled the trolley back over to the counter. When was the last time he'd actually slept of his own free will, without being gassed, or forced to run until he dropped, or shocked by the collar until his body couldn't cope. He could only hope that the electricity was having no lasting effect on any of his organs. Opening his eyes, he tried to figure out where he was. The bright lights blinking down at him were different to the ones he’d spent the last however many days waking up to, and the bustle of activity in the room was new. Peter tried to sit up but, to his dismay, found he couldn't move at all, what with the nine straps pinning his body to the harsh metal table. A strap was fastened around his forehead, preventing him from moving his head so much as an inch, and two were fastened around his wrists next to the manacles with two more around his biceps, another two held his thighs down and the final two kept his ankles pinned. He tried to speak around the gag but it came out as nothing but a mildly annoyed gargle of noise despite the fact he was yelling in fury.

“Subject is awake." spoke Dr Alves as she moved over to him and forced his eye wide open before shining a penlight into it to gauge the response of his pupils, Peter tried to move his head away before she moved onto the other eye but found that the strap over his forehead had absolutely no give, "Pupils are responsive, though a little sluggish. Presumably due to the high voltage it just experienced as the subject is not yet fully lucid."

Did she just call him an ‘it’? Peter scowled, wrenching his wrists wildly in a bid to free them. His body was moving violently fast within its constraints as he tried desperately to free himself, making the table itself tremble and shake and causing it to knock against the tray of surgical tools, sending them tumbling, with the clink of metal on stone, to the ground.

The doctor who had called him an ‘it’ muttered something unintelligible under her breath as she glanced up at Stryker.

“Peter I would be more than happy to push this button and send out an order to shoot your mother dead.” Stryker warned him, voice like ice piercing through his heart.

Finally, Peter stilled and Alves busied herself again with sticking multiple electrodes to his bare chest. Peter glared bloody murder up at her as she wired the cold electrodes up to a variety of machines, the only one within Peter’s line of sight being the heart monitor. His heart beat super fast anyway, but coupled with the panic that had been growing inside of him, he highly doubted it would even show up on the screen. A loud solitary bleep filled the air, causing Stryker and the two doctors to look up at the monitor in confusion.

"He’s moving therefore he’s alive and I was able to take his blood, ergo blood _is_ being pumped around his body. His heart must be beating at a frequency too high for the monitor to detect." Taylor concluded, looking up from her blood samples. Peter frowned at the blood, had she taken it from him while he was out? It was the only way she could have done it, even so, Peter couldn't help but feel even more vulnerable than he did before.

Taylor went back to inspecting her blood samples while Alves, much to Peter’s reluctance, pulled off his shoes and socks and took a large silver pair of scissors and began to cut off his jeans – a pair that he really liked for that matter – leaving him only in his boxers and feeling very exposed, a shiver moved down his spine as his body began to register the cold in the room, although none of the three others in the room seemed to give a shit.

“Sir," Taylor piped up and Stryker made his way over to her, his stride brimming with overconfidence that made Peter want to stick a crocodile up his arse, hell, maybe even two, "He has extreme hemochromatosis which means that his blood iron count is far higher than the average man his age. But surprisingly, it isn't actually causing him any harm. In fact, given how high his heart rate is I think he needs it this high to get enough oxygen around his body when running otherwise he would become fatigued in seconds."

Peter couldn't help but notice how she referred to him as actual person as opposed to the other doctor who seemed of think he wasn't worth it. It really shouldn’t have been the thing that he spent the most time dwelling on, he really should’ve been trying to formulate a plan to escape, but being referred to as something less than human, it brought forwards a whole bunch of unwanted memories from school. All those ‘normal’ kids making fun of his hair… Peter clenched his fists, no, he had to push those thoughts and memories to the back of his mind. The cool touch of a scalpel on his flesh brought him back to the real world. Alves stood at the far end of the table, holding a silver scalpel in one hand as she gripped his lower leg with the other. She pushed the blade through his skin, wrenching a muffled scream from within him as she dragged it along, excruciatingly slowly - it was a though she wasn’t even trying to be quick about it, the sick bitch seemed to enjoy the pain he was in. Peter’s back arched as he tried to let out a yell from behind the gag, as soon as he removed the scalpel he sagged back down onto the cold surgical table breathing heavily. He was only granted a second’s relief however, before her gloved fingers started poking into the wound, stretching the cut so as to get a nice clean view of his calf muscle. Peter was squirming and sweating, desperate to remove his leg from her grip but the leather strap around his ankle and thigh and the iron grip the doctor had on his shin kept his leg firmly in place.

“Extremely dense muscle tissue. Arteries pumping at very high rate, they’re practically a blur, Sir. If we could understand how his body deals with the stress of speed we could perhaps even begin to improve the capabilities of regular humans.” she said as she poked around within his leg, sending stabbing pains shooting up his spine. Peter groaned and screamed, mentally begging her to stop and take her hands out of his calf. He didn’t want to be an experiment. He didn’t want be some sort of breakthrough. He just wanted to go back home to his mother and sister. She took ahold of two short metal rods and shoved them into the incision, keeping the wound help open. Her hands fetched a small pair of surgical scissors, a set of tweezers, and a few Petri dishes and she sliced into his muscle tissue, pulling out small chunks and placing them into the dishes before she sealed them closed. Peter's fists were clenched in pain, his nails digging into his palms as she screwed with his leg. His eyes were bloodshot and a single tear trailed down his cheek. As soon as she set the instruments down, he could feel the muscle in his leg attempting to knit itself back together, but with the metal dividers in place and his wound exposed to the open air, Peter highly doubted that and progress would be made.

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating." She muttered in awe, clearly pleaded by something she'd seen, hastily peeling off one bloodied glove and scribbling something down in Stryker's notebook before looking up at him again, "Sir, could I perhaps use the remote for a moment?” Alves asked, sending a burst of panic to shooting through Peter’s body to join the sheer pain he could feel from his leg. His nails had torn through the skin of his palms and blood was slowly trickling down his palms and dripping onto the floor.

“Of course.” Stryker said, striding past Dr Taylor and handing over the remote.

“Thank you, Sir.” Dr Alves smirked, taking the remote in her hand, pushing her glasses back up her nose with the back of her gloved and blood covered hand. Her clean hand's thumb hovered over the button as Peter watched, eyes wide, begging her through the gag to put the remote down. The world around him moved in slow motion as her thumb pressed down on the button, sending agonising shocks through his body. The pain seemed never ending and, coupled with the agony radiating from his leg, it was a surprise he was still conscious by the time she removed her finger from the button and set the remote back down onto the counter behind her. She prodded around in his muscles a little more before removing the metal separators and peeling off the second bloodied glove, “Leg’s all yours, Abi.” she said to Dr Taylor as she began to write up the rest of her findings in the notebook Stryker provided for her. Peter let out a breath of relief, she seemed done with poking around inside him for the time being.

Dr Taylor reluctantly looked up from her blood sampling and nodded, “As soon as I’ve extracted his DNA from the blood.” she said, already onto her third vial for her third test. Brushing her strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes and behind her small ears, she looked back down at her work.

Alves nodded and went to collect a clean scalpel from the tray along with two plastic disks, one slightly smaller and flatter than the other. She moved over to Peter's chest. It seemed his relief was short lived. His back arched as she sliced into his left pectoral muscle, pain was still pounding through his leg, her gloved fingers picked through the flesh and muscle, tearing deeply through it - being careful to avoid his arteries. She slipped the larger disk into his body, as closely to his heart as she could without causing him to bleed out all over the table. Peter groaned, barely managing to stay conscious as she extracted her fingers from the wound and began to stitch it up. His leg was still dripping blood onto the table, though the blood seemed to have clotted and he wasn’t at any risk of bleeding out any time soon. Once satisfied that her subject wasn’t about to die on her, she made another incision with a fresh scalpel into the tender flesh of his forearm. Peter’s jaw clenched tightly as pain shot through his arm, his whole body felt as though it was on fire. Alves slipped the smaller plastic disk deep into the boy’s arm and began to roughly stitch up the wound. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, but tears still leaked from them due to the short stabbing pains that floated through his nervous system at each pinprick. He was on the verge of unconsciousness when Alves finished, taking as many deep breaths as he could through his nose, he fought his way back to lucidity. He desperately wanted to slip into oblivion and to be free from the pain, if only for a short while, but he refused to leave his unconscious body to the mercy of the psychopaths in the room.

"Ideally I'd want to take a look at his heart." Alves told her boss, "His nervous system too. The rate at which his neurons must work at must be phenomenal."

"We're not killing him yet, Alves. But I assure you, when he dies you get to lead the autopsy." Stryker replied.

Peter was mentally throwing every curse word he knew at the pair of prize dicks. Even though the gag was stopping him from verbally swearing at them, it didn't stop him from raising his hand as best he could and giving them both the finger.

"You got spirit kid. I'll give you that." Stryker chuckled, as though he hadn't been just talking about murder as though it were something as trivial as afternoon tea.

A short while later Taylor stood up and moved over to their test subject, she snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and picked up the surgical thread and needle from the tray on the main counter. After removing the needle from its sterile packaging and doing the same to the thread, she threaded the needle and crouched down by his leg, “This will hurt.” she warned him, wishing she was allowed to use an anaesthetic on him, but Stryker forbade it and Sophia de Sousa Alves didn’t seem to want to use it either. With a sigh, she began to stitch up the wound, doing her best to ignore the whimpers of pain coming from the kid. She managed to complete the task fairly quickly and grabbed a bandage from the white marble counter behind her. Carefully, she wrapped Peter’s lower leg up in the bandage and, once she was sure it was secure but not too tight that it would restrict his blood flow, she returned to her desk. Peter glanced at her was she walked away, gratitude in his eyes for not letting him bleed out all over the table. As she inspected the extracted DNA she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Something about this boy’s DNA was bugging her, and it wasn’t the fact that it possessed, what had been nicknamed as, the X gene. She spent a few minutes in deep concentration, furiously clicking away on the computer, oblivious to the fact that everyone in the room was watching her. Eventually she pulled up a set of information on another mutant’s DNA and ran it against Peter’s.

Alves had attached more electrodes to the subject’s forehead and torso and had reached over to grab the remote when she was interrupted by Stryker speaking.  
            “Well I never…” Stryker muttered in amazement as he stood behind her, “This is more than I bargained for, much much more.”

            Peter tried to turn his head to see what they were seeing, even Dr I-Have-An-Obsession-With-Cutting-Into-People-And-Messing-With-Their-Muscles dropped what she was doing to see what discovery they had stumbled upon in the subject’s DNA.

            “Why didn’t you tell me kid?” Stryker asked approaching him with a vicious grin plastered over his face.

            “Tell you what?” Peter tried, and failed, to ask bravely behind the gag, grateful that he hadn’t been electrocuted again, but unsure as to which secret he was supposedly keeping.

Stryker seemed to figure out what it was Peter was saying by the confusion on his face, “You did know your father was Magneto right?” he asked with a hint of amusement on his face, “No?” he asked in response to Peter’s wide eyes of panic and confusion, “My men are hunting him down as we speak, and when I find him. I’ll be sure to tell him; it’s a boy. You’re his little monster.” Stryker chuckled, grabbing his remote, as he exited the room, pulling the door closed with a buzz behind him, he’d originally thought finding the boy presented him with a goldmine of power, now he knew that it presented him with so much more.

            Peter lay back on the table, mind running over what he’d just learnt. Erik Lehnsherr, aka Magneto aka the man he broke out of the Pentagon aka the mutant terrorist, was his father? They had to be lying, it had to be some sort of ruse… what exactly they hoped it would achieve he wasn’t sure… but it couldn’t be true. But then again, his mother had known a man who could control metal… but that didn’t mean anything did it? Knowing someone wasn’t the same as having sex with someone… great, now he was thinking about Magneto having sex his mum. They had to be lying… they had to be. But deep within him Peter knew they weren’t, he really was Magneto’s son. Fuck.

 

***

 

The jet landed silently behind a belt of trees that shielded it from both the road and the compound and Erik stood up waiting for Hank to open the door.

            “Hank, you stay here and watch Charles. And be ready. We may need a speedy getaway.” Erik said sternly, glancing towards the open door of the cockpit as Hank tapped a button on remotely lowered the steps.

            “Remember, get rid of the block first. I can’t help you if I can’t get in.” Charles reminded him.

            Erik glanced back at him and nodded, “I’ll do what I can Charles.” he said before dramatically floating out of the plane as Charles rolled his eyes.

_Always with the melodrama, Erik…_

_Shut up, Charles._

            Charles chuckled and shook his head, focusing his gaze out the window.

            Erik moved through the air unnoticed by those patrolling the grounds below, he silently landed on the roof of the compound and crept over to the trapdoor that lead down into the depths of the building.

 _I’ll lose you as soon as you enter Erik. Disable whatever’s blocking me out first._ Charles instructed as Erik, using his powers, silently opened the trapdoor and eased himself down the ladder.

            He found himself on a suspended metal pathway that seemed to run the length of the building and levitated himself into the air so as to move along it in silence. A guard walked along the corridor below him, periodically checking each room they walked past. That, presumably, was where the other mutants were being kept.

            “I’ve found them Charles.” Erik whispered out of instinct before remembering that his friend wouldn’t be able to hear him. As he floated along the metal walkway he noticed, at the end, a generator. Moving silently towards it he could sense the wires that ran from the machine into the walls, but he would also sense the wires within the building from the main power grid and this one didn’t seem to be corrected to the building’s electrics in the same way. But then again, it could just be a backup generator, although Erik highly doubted that alternative. With a small hand movement, he disconnected the wires within it, tearing them apart and tangling them together into a complex mess. “Charles?” he whispered again.

 _Erik!_ Came Charles’ relieved voice into his mind, _What was it?_

 _Some sort of frequency generator I assume._ Erik said as he mentally tore a bunch of wires out of it, now it would take a very long time to fix.

 _Have you located Peter?_ Charles asked seeing what Erik was doing through his eyes.

_Not yet, but there are a bunch of cells down there, there’s a chance he and the other mutants may be within one of them. I’m going to go and check it out._

_Be careful Erik, and please don’t kill anyone._ Charles said sounding worried.

But Erik didn’t reply as he crouched down, reaching for the guard’s gun. His mind locked onto the metal and, with a sharp hand gesture, the gun slammed into the head of the guard, knocking him unconscious. _Happy Charles?_ He asked floating himself down to the floor before waving the cell doors open.

 _Peter’s in the west wing in the first level of the basement._ Charles replied, _I’ll take care of these mutants, I’ll let them know where to go._

Erik nodded and ran down the corridor past the confused mutants as they emerged from their cells, “Get out of here!” he hissed as he ran past them towards the stairwell. The mutants nodded, some looking confused, as Charles entered their minds, instructing them on where to go. The mutants ran in the opposite direction, tearing towards the eastern stairwell, one boy ran after the others, eyes scrunched shut, gripping tightly onto the hand of a young girl, seemingly made of glass, as she led him after the others. Erik has no time to ponder over the boy’s mutation before a screeching alarm blared out throughout the building making Erik curse in German, “So much for the element of surprise then.” he muttered, “If you want a fight then you’ll get a fight.” he growled as he searched for metal reinforcements within the concrete walls and floor. With a slight smirk he concentrated his power on the iron reinforcements of the stairs and tore out the entire stairwell, tossing it through the outer wall as though it were nothing, creating a gaping hole to the outside world. He levitated himself down onto the first level of the basement and ran along the corridor trying to find the boy. Troops of soldiers blocked his way down the corridor, metal guns aimed towards him. It seemed they hadn’t known who had broken in and opted for their usual weapons. Big mistake.

 _Erik don’t kill them!_ Charles butted back into the man’s head, he knew better than to try

and convince the man to let them live by reminding him that they were “just following

orders”.

The soldiers took aim, guns clicking before they fired. Erik calmly held a hand up in the air, causing the bullets to freeze where they were. Realisation of their mistake dawned on the faces of the soldiers as Erik sent the bullets flying back at them, not aiming to kill, just aiming to maim. There were gasps of agony as the bullets tore through the flesh of the men, and a chorus of yells and Erik grabbed ahold of the metal buckles of their uniforms and effortlessly flung them all back and into a wall, where they collapsed in a boneless heap.

 _Happy Charles?_ Erik asked bitterly as he approached the room outside which the soldiers had been positioned. He tore the metal door off its hinges, dropping the crumpled sheet of steel to the floor with a clatter. Erik froze at the sight that greeted him.

Behind a blood soaked table stood one woman proudly, plastic gun pointed right at him. The gun in the second woman’s hand shook, fear evident on her face, she really didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want to kill someone either.

Erik’s attention, however, was focused on the two other people in the room. A young-ish looking colonel stood with a younger looking silver haired man in front of him. A strong arm was wrapped around the boy’s neck with a small plastic box in hand. The second arm wielded a plastic gun, shoving the barrel against the side of the boy’s head.

“Come any closer, Magneto. And I shoot your son dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it then please don't hesitate to drop a comment! Even if you didn't like it I'd still like to hear from you.


	6. Chapter 6

_Charles!_ Erik’s mind screamed, _Freeze them Charles!_

Charles quickly obliged, attempting to worm his way into their heads. But each time he tried it was like running headlong into a brick wall whilst underwater.

 _I can't Erik!_ Charles exclaimed, sounding slightly panicked, _Something or someone is blocking me! I'm sorry my friend, but there's nothing I can do._

 _Dammit Charles!_ Erik yelled back in frustration, glowering at Stryker, "Release the boy."

"Why, so you can catch up on all those years of fatherhood you missed and raise him into your brotherhood?" Stryker asked with a smirk, pressing the gun harder against Peter's head, "You must be more stupid than I thought if you think I'm going to let you turn him into a monster like you, into a mini Magneto."

"As opposed to the monster you are? Kidnapping teenagers and torturing them? Why, to understand their abilities? To unlock them and to use them? Sounds an awful lot like a man I once knew, the very man who attempted to start world war three were it not, might I remind you, for me. This _monster_ stood right here." Erik was stalling and they both knew it. _What do I do Charles?!_ Erik yelled mentally, attempting to direct the thought towards Charles as best he could.

Peter seized his opportunity as Erik finished his speech and clenched his bloody fist, bringing it down hard on Stryker's balls. The man doubled forwards, grip loosening just enough for Peter to squirm out of his grasp. Enraged, Stryker fired the gun, bullet soaring through the empty air Peter's head had occupied mere moments ago. The second the first shot was fired the other two doctors followed suit; Alves aiming right for Erik's head, a murderous look of pure rage etched upon her face, and Taylor, hand shaking in fear and unintentionally tapping the trigger from the shock of the initial gunshot. The bullet eased its way through the air as Peter watched. He wasn't able to move as fast as he would have liked on his bad leg, but he'd have to make do. He picked up the notebook and threw it towards Taylor's bullet, sending it spiralling of towards the far corner.        Alves' bullet was moving uncomfortably close to Erik's head so Peter reached up towards it and pulled it away to the side, so that it would miss Erik and embed itself in the wall of the corridor behind him. He jogged into the wall beside Erik as time for Peter moved back to regular-person time. He leaned against the wall pulling all the electrodes off his nearly naked body. Before anyone had the chance to fire again, Erik reached out towards the metal table with his powers, holding it up as a shield as plastic bullets careered into it. Once he heard that satisfying click which indicated to him that the guns were empty, he flung the table forwards, slamming it straight into Stryker before swinging it to the side, causing it to collide with Alves' skull. A sickening crunch could be heard as her head collided with Stryker's on the ground.

            “Please don’t hurt me!” Taylor squeaked as the table swung towards her, “I never wanted to hurt him I was just…”

            She was abruptly cut off by Erik slamming the table against her, knocking her into unconsciousness, “Just following orders.” Erik muttered before picked the three guns up off the floor, two empty and one missing only one bullet, and moving back over to Peter. He cupped his cheek with a gentleness that was simply unheard of as he peeled off the tape, as painlessly as he could, and pulled out the rag, “Can you walk?” he asked stowing the guns into his belt.

            Peter stared at him wide-eyed before nodding, “Well enough.” he said, “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as Erik ushered him out of the room.

            “Saving your skin.” Erik replied raising an open palm towards the room. He clenched his fist tightly and tore the iron supports out of the walls and the ceiling, causing the concrete to crumble and collapse, crushing Stryker and the doctors beneath it.

_Erik, I'm so sorry. Something was blocking me._

_Save it for the plane Charles. I need to get Peter out of here. Where do I go?_

Charles quickly rattled off a set of instructions to him and Erik nodded, though to Peter it looked as though he was agreeing with thin air.

"You okay man?" Peter asked looking gleefully at the remains of the room, "You kinda spaced out." he said, voice coming out all harsh and hoarse.

"Telepathic conversation." Erik replied, because of course it was a perfectly normal thing to do and didn’t weird Peter out in the slightest, "This way." He said leading him towards the flight of stairs he hadn't destroyed and jogging up them, Peter followed behind quickly but each step pained him more than the last.

            “I would say I owe you one, but this is basically pay back for the Pentagon.” Peter said, his usual light-hearted cheek slowly returning as he limped to freedom, "And also, since when were you a telepath? I thought you controlled metal."

            “Charles is the tele -- Shit.” Erik muttered, drawing to a halt. Their path to the doors was blocked by more soldiers, this time with plastic guns, not metal. “Charles!” he yelled, but before Charles or Erik or even the soldiers had the chance to react, Peter had placed a hand on the back of Erik’s neck and started running. He ran with him, through the barricade of soldiers, the guards sent flying as he ran, none able to react in time to pull the trigger or even register what had happened. The pair stopped just within the forest and Peter practically collapsed onto Erik’s back, hand still resting on his neck - it seemed the only thing keeping the kid upright. The bandage around his leg was becoming increasingly more crimson than white, perhaps running hadn't been the best plan.

            “Bad idea. Tore m’ stitches. Tired.” Peter mumbled tiredly as Erik tried to ignore the wave of nausea that passed through his from the run and tried to focus on keeping the boy standing.

            He looped the kid’s arm over his soldier and helped him through the forest towards the plane, with each step they took it became clear that Peter wasn't putting a lick of effort into walking and was completely counting on Erik to get him to the plane, although Erik wasn't complaining, as far as he was concerned Peter had earned the right to be as useless as he wanted.

 _Erik?_ Charles asked sounding worried, _Are you both okay?_

_Yeah, the kid got us out of there. But he’s bleeding pretty badly. Did you get the others onboard?_

_Everyone’s fine Erik, I’ll grab the first aid kit. You focus on getting back to the jet._

            Erik nodded as he took more of Peter’s weight, the fact that the kid was almost the same height as him didn’t help much. After what felt to Erik like far too long, they finally reached the plane and Erik lifted him onto his shoulder in a fireman’s lift as he carried him up the stairs.

            “Fucking put me down. 'M a grown man. Don't like being carried.” Peter muttered, though he didn’t really have enough energy to fight the man’s grip. soon enough he got his wish and was dropped down into a comfy armchair.

            “Let’s leave, Hank!” Erik said sternly as the door closed and he turned back to Peter and sat down opposite him, lifting his leg onto his knee, ignoring the looks he was getting from the ten or so other new passengers.

            “Get off.” Peter snapped, jerking his leg protectively back.

            “Peter, I’m not them. You need to let me look at this.”

            Peter looked up at his with a frown, eyes softening slightly as he nodded, “But get this freaking thing off me first. And I want some clothes too. And food. Lots of food. I could literally eat a horse. Not even kidding, give me a horse and its be in my stomach in a flash.”

            “Fine, but you’ll have to put up with my clothes.” he said as he broke the padlock off of the collar, “Charles. I need the first aid kit and a pair of scissors.” he said frowning at the zipties.

"Don't want your prison pyjamas." Peter mumbled.

"Stop talking and let me work."

"You're so bossy. You could be someone's mum."

"Peter you're completely out of it. Stop talking."

"Alright... Alright... Untwist your knickers oldie."

Unbeknownst to any of them, Stryker had awoken. He gripped the remote for the collar tightly in his hand as he stood up, not caring if the button was being pressed or not. He was furious, Magneto would pay, and so would his kid.

            Before Charles had the chance to hand the kit and scissors over to Erik, a gut wrenching scream was torn from Peter’s lips as electricity coursed through the collar. He flailed about wildly, clawing at his neck in an attempt to remove the collar, "Get it off get it off get it off!!!" He yelled, thrashing about like crazy. Erik was instantly on his feet and tore the plastic box from the back of Peter’s neck, making sure not to touch the kid so as to not be electrocuted himself. As soon as the collar had been deactivated, and crushed beneath Erik’s foot, Peter sagged back against the chair, eyes squeezed tightly shut and breathing heavily.

            “Is he okay?” piped up the girl with the diamond-like skin from the back of the plane.

            “He’ll be fine Miss Silverfox.” Charles said, pressing two fingers to his temple to discover her name, “Now I recommend you all try to catch some sleep.” he said kindly before mentally knocking them all out and wheeling himself over to Erik and Peter.

            The scissors flew into Erik’s hand and he cut the collar from around the kid’s neck, “I’ll see to his leg Charles, you see to his neck.” he instructed, discarding the offending object to the floor.

            “Thanks man…” Peter said weakly.

            Charles looked sadly at the boy before tapping two fingers to his temple and putting Peter to sleep, “We don’t have any anaesthetics. I wouldn’t want him to be in any more pain than need be. I do hope he wasn't awake when these were made.” he said with a frown, glancing at the jagged stitches on his arm and chest.

Erik shook his head as he unwrapped the bandage around Peter’s calf and carefully began to redo the stitches, "I highly doubt they would have let him sleep." he said, his powers keeping the needle steadier than his hands would have been able to.

Once they were done, Charles draped a quilt over him and invited Erik to sit across from him, “Stryker said he was your son.” he stated.

“Believe it or not, I heard Charles.”

“The other doctor, the blonde. I was able to read her mind before you knocked her out, the block must have been destroyed when you knocked the first unconscious. They had your DNA, Erik, presumably from when Raven shot you.”

“And…?” Erik asked rubbing the scar on his neck, he didn’t like where this was going.

“And she matched Peter’s DNA to yours.”

“There has to have been a mistake.” Erik hissed, “I’m not a father.”

“How did you know Magda Maximoff?” Charles pressed, “I’m not going to stop until I get an answer, Erik.”

“When I knew her she was Magda Lehnsherr.” Erik snapped, “She left me eight years before I first met you.”

“You were married?” Charles asked in disbelief, “I… I didn’t know…”

“Because you stopped poking around in my head as soon as you encountered Shaw and memories of my mother.”

            “Erik…”

“I _am_ grateful that you left those memories alone though Charles.” Erik continued, “But I can’t be his father.”

“He shares your DNA.”

“Magda wasn’t pregnant when she left me…” Erik shook his head.

“Unless she was, and she didn’t tell you.” Charles pointed out, “What happened?” he asked kindly.

“That’s a discussion for another time, Charles.” Erik shook his head, “You have more important things to focus on.”

“True. But right now those _more important things_ are all asleep.” Charles reminded him, “Although, there is one thing you out to know. Riptide, Janos, is among them.”

“I thought he was dead…” Erik muttered, “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’d hope you’d be able to recognise me for yourself, boss.” Janos said standing up with a yawn as he walked over to the pair, “But I’m fairly sure I’m not dead.”

“You vanished, have you been with Stryker the whole time?” Erik asked.

“My younger sister developed powers. I was with her until I got taken. I should have said, I know. But I’m sure you can understand boss, I didn’t want anyone else knowing about her.”

“I understand perfectly.” Erik said relaxing back into his chair.

“As soon as we are grounded once more, I will be taking my leave. I need to find her again.”

“Of course.” Charles nodded, “And we both wish you the best of luck with her.” he said, Erik nodded in agreement.

“Thank you.” Janos said with a polite nod before returning back to the armchair he’d claimed for himself.

“Boss?” Charles asked with an amused grin once Janos had retreated back to his seat.

“He picked up the habit from Azazel.” Erik explained without explaining much, “Before he died.”

“Trask.” Charles nodded, “I know I should have done something Erik… but I…”

Erik held up his hand to stop him, “This isn’t the moment.” he said shaking his head as he observed the mismatched group of mutants in the plane, “For now. How do you feel about a game of chess?”

Charles chucked, “I would be delighted. Even though you are avoiding all of my questions."

"Then chess it is." Erik smirked, floating the board over to the table between them, "Tea, vicar?" He asked with a smirk as two silver rimmed glasses and a silver based decanter of scotch floated through the air towards them.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head with a small grin as he plucked a glass out of the air, "Don't mind if I do."

 

***

 

True to his word, as soon as the plane had landed, Janos was gone in a whirl of wind.

            “He really is an interesting fellow.” Charles remarked to Hank as he helped him down the aircraft’s stairs.

            “Interesting’s one word for it.” Hank muttered with a nod as he ushered the remaining eight mutants down the steps of the plane, “Just follow the professor.” he told them, “He’ll get into contact with your families and make arrangements for you to either stay or return home.

            “What exactly is this place?” The purple haired Elizabeth Braddock asked sounding slightly pissed, though for the life of him Hank couldn’t figure out why, they’d just saved her life.

            “It’s a school, Elizabeth. A school for mutants.” Charles explained.

            “I already dropped out of school so…” Elizabeth trailed off with a shrug.

            “No one’s forcing you to stay.” Charles told her, “But those of you who wish to stay, know that I will do everything I can to help you reach the true potential of your powers. Now, if you would all follow me, I’ll set you up with some food and see about contacting your families should you want me to.” he said warmly to the rest of them and wheeled himself around, leading them towards the lifts up to the main part of the mansion.

            Soon only Peter and Erik were left on the plane and, a few minutes later, Peter began to stir.

            “Charles put you to sleep.” Erik explained as the kid gave him a sleepy confused look, “Don’t touch the bandages around your neck or on your leg, or your chest or your arm for that matter, you need time to heal. Oh, and you might want these.” he added, floating his suitcase over with a shirt and pair of trousers.

            “Thanks.” Peter said pulling the clothes on in a blur, careful not to rip his stitches again, “I look like someone’s dad.” he said looking down at himself, “Don’t you own a pair of jeans?”  he asked.

            “Would you rather walk in still in your underwear?” Erik asked raising an eyebrow.

            “Alright, alright.” Peter said shaking his head, “Why did you come and get me though, man? Not that I’m not grateful or anything, I am, but… how did you, of all people, know where I was? I thought you'd be plotting assassinations or something evil.” he asked curiously.

            “I’m not evil... But it was Charles.” Erik replied, “Your mother called him. He contacted me, told me you and a bunch of other mutants were missing, so naturally, I came right away. And I did owe you for the Pentagon. I didn’t intend to kill him, you know that right?” he asked, “They took me out before I could save him. I don't kill for no reason.” he explained, turning a plastic gun over and over in his hands.

            “I… uh… listen. Back there. Colonel Bitchface said something to me. Something about you…”

            “He told you I was your father. I gathered when he called you my son...” Erik nodded, avoiding eye contact.

            “You know, when you start a sentence like that you don’t just leave a guy hanging!” Peter said trying to keep the conversation light hearted, “So, am I? When my mum said she knew a guy who could control metal, did she mean… uh… more than know?”

Erik sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Yes.”

"Gross."

"You did ask."

            “Then how come you were never there?” Peter asked as he stood up, “I grew up without a dad! Scared my mum half out her mind when my powers started showing up. Drove her crazy with ‘em! I grew up with no idea what was wrong with me until Claws, the Professor and Big Blue showed up in my room and explained to me what I was. Why weren’t you there?!”

            “Peter calm down! I didn’t know you existed!” Erik countered, but he couldn't help but feel a burst of pride as the kid called Hank by the same nickname Erik used, “Your mother didn’t even tell me she was pregnant with you before she left!”

            “She… she wasn’t just pregnant with me.” Peter said scratching the back of his head.

            “What do you mean it wasn’t just you?” Erik asked frowning, although he had an idea where this was going.

            “I have a twin. A sister. Wanda, she’s at college. She got the brains. I got the... The speed I guess.” Peter joked.

            “Is she…?”

            “A mutant? Yeah. The only other one I ever knew. She’s got these snazzy probability powers. Kinda like magic. But not magic. It’s pretty cool.” he babbled as his stomach growled.

            “Hungry?” Erik asked raising an eyebrow. His mind was still racing, he had a daughter too? A mutant daughter? Shit just wouldn’t stop getting stranger.

            “Like you wouldn’t believe.” Peter grinned, “Lead the way to the kitchen old man.”

            “I’m not that old.” Erik shook his head as a small smile crossed his face.

            “If you’re my dad then it means you’re my old man. Old man.” Peter smirked, limping towards the stairs leading out of the plane.

            “Need a hand there kid?” Erik asked grabbing his helmet and suitcase with his powers as he followed on behind.

            “I don’t need help.” Peter protested as he hobbled down the stairs.

            “Of course you don’t.” Erik shook his head with a chuckle before reaching out to a few metal scraps in the corner of the hanger, forging them into an expertly crafted and intricately designed metal crutch, “Take it.” he said walking down the stairs behind him. Peter opened his mouth to protest but Erik shoved it into his hand with his powers, “Take it, go call your mother, then meet me in the kitchen. I’m not much of cook but I’ll see if I can whip up something.”

            “See ya there Magneto. Or, am I supposed to call you Dadneto now?” Peter said before disappearing off in a limping blur.

 

***

 

Erik was in the kitchen, sat back in a chair relaxing as knives moved through the air, chopping and dicing vegetables and dropping them into a pan.

            “Since when were you all domestic, Erik?” Charles asked announcing his presence as he rolled into the room.

            “Since you decided to not own the menus of any takeaway restaurants in the area. Where are the others?” Erik asked.

            “Hank is making arrangements for Elizabeth and Christopher to return home. I sent the other to go get settled in their rooms before lunch.” Charles explained, “How did things go with Peter?”

            “Better than I had expected.” Erik told him with a shrug, “But I expect that was partially due to me having saved his life and him having saved mine.”

            “That certainly is something which would put you in someone’s good books.”

            “There was one other thing.”

            “Yes?” Charles asked, although he couldn’t help but know already, Erik’s thoughts had been practically screaming it out since he’d spoken with Peter.

            “I have a daughter as well. Wanda.”

            “And she’s a mutant too?”

            “Probability powers according to the kid.” Erik replied with a nod, “Do you think you could find her, through cerebro?”

            “I could. But I think Peter ought to explain the situation to her first.”

            “Annoyingly enough Charles, you may be right.” he said adjusting the knobs on the cooker.

            The pair sat in silence for a few moments longer, listening contentedly to the flurry of movement that the mansion hadn’t seen in a very long time.

            “Erik, I want to thank you.”

            “For what?”

            “Not killing anyone."

            "I should have killed Stryker. I was just a tad preoccupied with the kid to make sure I’d caved in his skull.” he said bitterly.

            “The Doctor, Sophia de Sousa Alves.” Charles said, attempting to pronounce the name correctly, “She was one of the people I suspected had been taken by Stryker.”

            “So he wanted to… what, create a mutant army?”

            “From what I could gather, yes.” Charles nodded with a frown, “And he wasn’t working alone. After you destroyed his facility, I fear he may return for you. And possibly for your son too.”

            “Then let him come, this time I’ll kill him. I’ll finish the job.” Erik said determinedly.

            “Erik, he had weapons that can kill you! You need to be more careful!” Charles shook his head, “Your responsibility isn’t just to yourself anymore, it’s to your son also.”

"Charles..."

"Stay until he's healed Erik. Then we can discuss our next move."

"Our?"

"I made the mistake of sitting on the sidelines last time. It's not a mistake I'm willing to make again."

Peter zoomed into the kitchen in a blur of worry, “I can’t get ahold of my mum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued....


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I've been on holiday and I've also been dealing with a lot of personal problems. It also doesn't help that I've been getting headaches almost every day and my chronic nosebleeds are back.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, more to come soon I promise you! And my other fics will also be updated soon too don't worry!!
> 
> Please do tell me what you think, it honestly means the world to me! Plus, comments/reviews give me so much motivation to write and satisfy the fan of the story!
> 
> Also, sorry for any typos/gramatical mistakes/ect, I'm not in my best mind at the moment to find all the mistakes.
> 
> Until the next time! Enjoy!

Peter zoomed into the kitchen in a blur of worry, “I can’t get ahold of my mum.”

“Are you sure she’d be in the house at this time?” Erik asked.

            “I saw how worried the woman was Erik, I highly doubt she would even have even wanted to leave the house while Peter was missing.” Charles frowned.

            “How long have I been missing?” Peter asked him.

            “Longer than your mother would like. I’ll get Hank to set up lunch for the others. I’ll attempt to contact her through cerebro.”

            “You can do that with non-mutants?” Erik asked.

            “We’ll see.” Charles muttered wheeling himself out of the room, mentally requesting for Hank to take over lunch.

"What’s cerebro? How does it work? And don't forget Lorna. And can you check on Wanda? I just-" Peter rattled off quickly before being interrupted by Erik.

"You're worried. It's understandable. But unless you stay calm you'll be of no use to them " Erik pointed out to him sternly.

“Just because you’re suddenly my dad doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.” Peter pointed out.

“I’m not suddenly your father, I’ve always been your father. Regardless of the fact neither of us knew it. And I’m not telling you what to do, I’m asking you to calm down.” Erik replied.

The lift pinged open and Charles wheeled himself in, “If you could both kindly argue the technicalities of your relationship another time that would be much appreciated. Now get in.” he said and the two men followed him into the lift, Erik begrudgingly so.

“Why is it that whenever you get the two of you into an elevator there’s suddenly more tension than air?” Peter asked in a vain attempt to distract himself from thoughts of his family.

“Because your father is an arse.” Charles muttered, wheeling himself out of the lift and down the blue-lit hallways towards cerebro.

“You flatter me, Charles.” Erik said shaking his head with a chuckle as he and Peter followed him into the cavernous space.

“Whoa… this is cool.” Peter mumbled in awe as he looked around the giant spherical room,

“What is it?”

            “It amplifies my telepathic powers, allowing me to touch the minds of every mutant on Earth, and perhaps, every human too. Now, Peter, I'm going to attempt to contact your mother. If you can attempt to not be a nervous ball of energy, then you can stay in here whilst I do it.”

            “Just do it man, I won't bug you just can you hurry up?” Peter whined, drumming his fingers on his crutch.  
            Charles ignored his whining and placed the helmet on over his head, “Erik, if you could.” he said and Erik moved over to the controls, flicking all the correct switches.

            Charles gripped onto the armrests of his chairs as all the minds in the world were opened up to his own. He sifted through them, mutants and humans alike, searching for Magda Maximoff. And then, there she was.

            _Mrs Maximoff?_ He asked tentatively, _Charles Xavier here._

            _Oh good god, how in hell are you doing that?!_ Magda exclaimed in return.

            _We found your son._ Charles replied, _He was unable to get ahold of you._

 _Oh thank god,_ Magda exclaimed mentally, relief flooding through her like a raging tide, _Where is he? Is he alright? Oh please tell me he wasn't hurt..._

 _He sustained a few injuries, though nothing he can't come back from,_ Charles assured her, _He's worried for you, he tried to phone but only reached your answerphone._

_We had to run. There were men..._

_I know, and there are more about ten or so minutes behind you. You need to get yourself to the nearest small town and keep yourself and your daughter hidden. We'll come get you with the jet. I'll delay them as best I can._ Charles instructed.

            _Please be quick, my Lorna, this isn't good for her._

 _We will Mrs Maximofff._ Charles assured her.

            He shut off their connection after hastily arranging a place to meet and land the jet. Charles' mind reached out towards the men, Magda had done well in her attempt to evade them, though these men were a trained militia, a force to be reckoned with. His mind locked onto the human Merriot's and he delved within, sifting through his short term memory to discern his location before diving into his working memory, searching for his orders. And there they were. Hastily, he set about altering them.

            _She's heading South West, not East North East. She's in a black BMW, not a red Mazda. She's alone. She's not a threat nor an asset worth obtaining. Abandon your mission and report back to your boss._

            Charles carefully retreated from the man's mind, hoping he had all bases covered. Merriot's new orders were to abandon the mission, but were he to pass it onto the others, he would end up sending them on a wild goose chase.

            “So?” Peter asked impatiently as Cerebro's helmet was calmly removed by its wearer, “Did you find her? Is she okay? And Lorna? How's Lorna? Is she okay? Do they know I'm okay?”

            “Your mother and your sister are fine. A little shaken, but unharmed. She is in no danger Peter, I promise you. And now I'm going to get her.” pressing two fingers to his temporal vein, the telepath prepared to summon Hank.

            “You needn't call Big Blue down here.” Erik interrupted causing Charles to raise an eyebrow, barely hiding the scowl that crossed his face at the mention of Erik's pet name for Hank, “I'm capable of flying your jet.”

            “I didn't know you had a pilot's licence Erik.” said Charles sarcastically.

            “I don't. But I have powers, or had you forgotten, my friend?”

            “Dudes, do you really need to get into your sexual tension spat now? I kind of wanna go get Lorna and my mum.” Peter interrupted, appearing between the two of them.

            “Someone needs to watch the other mutants.” Erik said as a smirk crossed his face, blatantly ignoring the small remark over the type of tension that always seemed to hang in the air between him and Charles.

            “Fine Erik, but crash and I promise you I'll make you think you're a six-year-old ballerina. I don't need to lose any more of my limbs.” Charles huffed petulantly.

            “Noted.” Erik nodded with a slight chuckle before addressing his son, _his son_... it still felt strange to think of him like that, “Peter, you're staying here.”

            “What?! No way! That's my family!” he spat, protective rage boiling through him.

            “You're injured, don't think I haven't noticed you’re limping everywhere. And you haven't eaten a proper meal or had sufficient rest since we got you back.”

            “I slept on the way here!” Peter pouted, “And I can run up to the kitchen and eat something before either of you have even managed to make it onto the plane! You're not going without me, they're not your family! They're mine!”

            Erik held his gaze for a moment, a moment that seemed to endlessly stretch on, before conceding, “When we return you're to eat a proper meal and sleep. Understood.”

            His reply would have been argumentative, but he quickly realised that if he started an argument then he wouldn't be allowed to go at all. “Fine.” he huffed, “But only after I know they're safe. And only because it’s what I’d do anyway, not ‘cause you’re my dad or anything.”

            “Go get something to eat Peter, we'll meet you in the jet.” Charles said with a nod, “And take it easy on your leg, we wouldn't want your father's handiwork to be ruined.”

            “Catch you later Xavier.” Peter said an instant before disappearing in a rush of wind, a clinking of a crutch and a streak of silver.

            “I wonder where he gets his stubbornness from.” the professor asked, a smirk playing on his lips, as he looked up at Erik.

            “Don't start Charles.” Erik muttered rolling his eyes, it pained his to admit it, but he seemed to be going soft for the annoying little speedster, who actually, wasn't that little, around the same height as he was in fact.

            Charles chuckled to himself, wheeling his chair down the bright silver hallway towards the aircraft hangar. Erik swiftly opened each door they came to, striding alongside his friend turned enemy turned frenemy. A silence hung between them, though not one of discomfort, it as the sort of silence that hung between friends who were more than comfortable in each other's presence, friends who had endured so much together.

            They hadn't even reached the steps up into the craft when Peter appeared before them once more, crutch discarded, clearly favouring his uninjured leg and still dressed in Erik's clothes, “You know, at some point we're gonna need to go shopping, you don't have anything sweet in your cupboards and I need a pair of jeans, and shoes.” he added wiggling his bare toes as he finished his haphazard sandwich, “Told Hank where we were going and he was on babysitting duty by the way.”

            “What did he say?” Charles asked.

            Peter simply shrugged, “Came down here before he could answer, “You want me to go back up and check? Because you could probably do it from here with your mind powers.”

            “No no, it's fine.” he assured the speedster, “But yes, we'll find some time to get you some clothes.” he said with a nod before glancing back up to Erik, “If you could.” he said gesturing to the stairs, _I can't bloody well get up these myself now, can I?_

Erik's only response was to flash him a smirk as he lifted the chair into the air, sending it cruising calmly into the inside of the plane.

            The interior of the aircraft was still a mess, littered with the remains of the shock collar and Peter's bloody bandages. A dark train of his blood still smeared onto the table Erik had propped his leg up onto.

            “Fun.” Peter muttered under his breath, deliberately walking, no, limping, past them towards another armchair towards the back of the jet and flopping down into it, not truly realising how tired he actually was until he felt the soft leather beneath him. Curling up like a mouse and burrowing his silver head into the gap between the chair and the wall, he was asleep in an instant.

            “That surely can't be comfortable.” Charles murmured as Erik pulled the door shut and made his way into the cockpit.

            “I'd clean up the blood if I were you, Charles. You may end up giving Magda a heart attack otherwise.” Erik said pulling the door of the cockpit closed behind him, casting a warm glance towards the calm form of his sleeping son. How many birthdays had he missed out on? Seventeen? Eighteen? He really ought to ask the age of his son, after all, that was something a father should know. Raising the plane into the air kept his mind occupied, a welcome distraction, but once they were cruising he no longer needed to concentrate so hard and so his mind began to wander once more. How would Magda react to seeing him again? Only time would tell but even so, he couldn't help but play through all possible scenarios. He doubted she'd be pleased to see him, and he doubted she'd be pleased to find out about his paternal connection to the twins. He shook his head and exited the cockpit, sliding into the vacant armchair across from Charles, casting an amused glance towards the sleeping body of his son, sprawled out on the armchair. Suddenly Peter began to toss and turn, the occasional whimper escaping his lips as his head thrashed from side to side in a blur.

            “Charles!” Erik voice raised in concern, “Charles what's happening?”

            “No no no no! Fuck off Doctor Psycho!” came Peter's broken voice through the air, “Stop! Stop it! No!”

            “Nightmare.” Charles muttered, brow furrowing in concern.

            “What are you waiting for? Stop it!” Erik snapped moving over to his son as quickly as he could. He knelt on the ground beside the chair, struggling to keep his mind on the metal jet.

            The plane lurched downwards.

            “Erik!” Charles yelled gripping onto the wall for dear life, “Level the bloody plane, Erik! Let me see to him!”

            It took two treacherously long seconds for Erik to snap out of it and pour his concentration into the outer metal shell of the jet.

            “Let me deal with this.” Charles said softly once the plane was level, heartbeat gradually returning to normal after it lurched with the plane.

            Erik nodded, continuously casting worried glances towards Peter, the boy's moans of pain and fear penetrating his heart.

            Charles carefully attempted to ender his mind, but it was moving too fast, he couldn't latch onto a single thought, let alone the chaotic nightmare he was suffering through. He pushed himself further, trying to wade through the screaming torrent of consciousness, but to little avail. Everything moved far too fast. Each time he thought he'd found the nightmare he was torn away from it by the sheer speed at which the boy's brain worked. He worked harder, forcing himself to latch onto the nightmare, causing pain to sear through his own head as he forced a dreamless sleep onto the boy's trembling and chaotic mind.

            He emerged from Peter's mind breathing heavily, a pounding pain beat out its rhythm on the inside of his skull. He gazed towards the, now still, form of his friend's son, a trail of blood leaked from both their noses.

            “Charles, what happened?” Erik asked, voice dripping with concern for both.

            “His mind moves fast, remarkably fast.” he replied, grabbing a tissue to stop the blood dripping from his nose, “I put him into a dreamless sleep.” he told him, tossing his tissue into the bin in the far corner that also housed the remains of the collar and the bloody bandages.

            Erik nodded, sighing in relief, “Good.” he said slowly, “Good.”

            The pair sat in silence, Erik focusing his powers on directing the plane, Charles quietly nursing the headache he'd earned from his trip into Peter's head.

            Erik silently moved back into the cockpit as they approached their destination, mind calm enough to land carefully, happy in the knowledge that his son was okay.

            Peter awoke as the change in pressure popped his ears, “We there?” he asked the professor as he sat himself upright in his seat.

            “You may want to wipe your nose.” Charles said tossing the box of tissues over to him with a nod.

            Peter caught it with one hand and wiped the blood away, raising an eyebrow in Charles' direction when he realised what it was, “Why?”

            “You were having a nightmare, Erik was so concerned he nearly dropped the plane.” he added with a chuckle, “I entered your mind to give you a dreamless sleep but... well, it moves just as quickly as your legs do, took a lot to even latch onto your dream.” he explained, “I came out of it with a bloody nose and a headache, although it looks like you managed to get off with just the bloody nose.”

            “Ah, right. Well uh, sorry about that.” Peter mumbled, tossing the tissue into the bin, grinning to himself when he didn't miss. What? After the few days he'd had he'd earned the right to enjoy the little things in life.

            “Don't be, it's quite remarkable.” Charles praised, “You needn't even use Erik's helmet to be protected from telepathic attacks.”

            “There's other telepaths out there?” Peter asked.

            “Plenty, I'm sure.” he nodded, “Now, fasten your seatbelt, it seems we're about to land.”

            The jet door opened as Erik stood beside Peter, steps unfolding out into the ground.

            “You know, you really should install a ramp.” Peter's voice came from the grass below, causing both men to smirk at his impatience as Erik lowered Charles out of the plane and onto the ground.

            “So where is she?” Peter asked impatiently, tapping the foot of his good leg up and down in a blur onto the grass.

            “She should be in there.” said Charles with a short nod towards the log cabin, second from the left hand side of the row, “We need to be quick. I can't sense any of Stryker's men from here, but that doesn't mean they aren't on their way.” he said, intending to address the both of them. Instead he ended up only speaking to Erik and the empty space where Peter had stood a second ago. He heard the door fling open and a warm smile spread across his lips as Magda pulled Peter into a tight hug. Lorna scampered out the door and wrapped her arms around his legs, leaning her head against his hip as she squeezed him tight with all the strength her eight-year-old arms could muster, which, surprisingly, was quite a lot.

            “My Pietro, oh I've missed you. I've been so worried. I didn't know where you'd gone I didn't know if you'd been taken or anything!” Magda exclaimed stroking her son's hair, crying tears of happiness into his shoulder.

            “I'm okay” he assured her, wincing slightly as her tight hug put an uncomfortable amount of pressure over the healing wound on his chest, “Mostly okay.” he corrected.

            “Don't go away again.” Lorna huffed, “I don't like it when you go away. Wanda already went away. Don't want you to go away too.” she pouted. Peter broke free of his mother's hug and carefully lifted Lorna up onto his hip.

            “I won't. I promise.” Peter smiled down at her, brushing her hair back out of her face.

            “Pietro... what happened to your neck?” Madga asked noticing the top of the white bandages sticking out from beneath his hoodie, “My boy, what did they do to you.”

            “It doesn't matter Mama, I'm okay now.” Peter said with a reassuring smile as Lorna hugged him tightly.

            “I'm dreadfully sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid we really ought to go. There are more soldiers, ten minutes away from here.” Charles told them, wondering how on Earth he's missed them in his search for possible threats to the Maximoffs.

            “Yes yes, of course.” Magda nodded, quickly dashing back into the house and grabbing the only bag she'd brought with her, “I can't thank you enough for bringing him back to me.” she said filled with gratitude as she turned towards the plane, the sight she saw made her freeze, blood running cold as memories flooded back.

            Erik had opted to remain by the plane, hoping to remain unnoticed for as long as possible. His heart couldn't help but sink slightly when he saw the look on Magda's face as their eyes locked.

            “Erik.” she said, gaze tunnelling in on him, “What are you doing here.”

            The metal bender held her gaze briefly before looking over her shoulder towards Peter, “I came to help reunite my son with his mother.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry its taken me a while to update, the muse left me but now its back and I'm slowly working on bringing all my stories up to date. Don't worry, I won't let any of them die, they will all be finished eventually.
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy

Peter glanced between both his parents, well, this was awkward.

            “Did that man person just say you're his –”

            “Let’s get on the jet, eh Lo?” he said and quickly ran with her in his arms back towards the jet and the comfy seats that awaited them within it.

            Erik and Magda gazed at each other, neither saying a word until Charles spoke up once more, “I suggest you two discuss this once on the plane, or better yet, once at the mansion. I sense this is a conversation that needs to be had in private.” he pressed, they needed to get out of here quickly.

            “Yes, of course. Sorry.” Magda mumbled, shouldering her bag and hopping up the steps onto the plane where she sat herself down on the seat across from Peter. God it was good to see her boy again, she'd grown terrified that she'd never see his silver locks again or be smiled at by his warm eyes, “Peter...” she said warmly, barely able to put her overwhelming love into words as she leaned forwards and placed her hand over his, “My boy... I was so worried... I should have done something more to keep you safe... oh God, I'm so happy you're okay.” she said, smiling back her tears as Peter gripped his mother's hand tight in his.

            “It wasn't your fault mum.” he assured her with a kindly smile as Lorna sat on his knee, more attached to her brother than ever before.

            Erik ran a tired hand through his tousled ginger hair and began to raise the wheelchair up into the air and onto the aircraft, he was just thankful that Charles chose not to object to his method of assistance this time, he really could not face dealing with anything more. In all honesty, he didn't even want to face dealing with this, but it didn't seem as though he was left with much of a choice in the matter. Magda was here. Peter was here. And even little Lorna who had no idea what was going on was here. This wasn't an issue that could simply be skirted around with charming smiles or casual threats, two of the main things he usually solved his issues with, besides his powers of course. The door of the jet closed itself behind him once he entered the plane and, without looking at anyone, he moved through to the cockpit and began the process or raising the metal beast up into the air. The engines whirred and the craft began to soar into the air, tearing through the thinning air and soon disappearing from sight into the clouds. He flicked autopilot on once the aeroplane was level and it began to find its way back towards the pre-programmed destination of the mansion. He'd only need to assist the craft when it came to landing. With a sigh, he slid open the door that lead through to the others, all eyes were on Lehnsherr as he exited the cabin and into the main body of the craft, the air so thick with tension that it could take more than a knife to slice through it, perhaps an axe, or maybe a chainsaw.

            “So you know?” Magda began, settling back into her seat as he took his own.

            “And about Wanda too.” Erik quitely replied with a nod.

            “We ought to talk in private, Erik.” Magda said with a curt nod, she didn't need Lorna hearing any of this, she didn't need Lorna knowing that her brother's father was a murderer, a mutant terrorist and a murderer.

            Peter watched the pair with beady dark eyes, this promised to be more than awkward.

 _When we return to the mansion I suggest you give your parents time to talk, they certainly have many things to speak about._ Charles whispered into Peter's mind, frowning from the exertion it was taking to simply transmit a single sentence into the kid's head. His mind moved like a derailed roller-coaster on a caffeine hit and a sugar high with whipped cream and a toffee apple on top.

 _Yeah, alright Prof._ Peter replied, noting the look the professor bore upon his face, _You sure you want to get inside my head again? I mean, you look like you're eating a salty lemon._

Charles simply rolled his eyes, deciding that he'd spend more than enough time in Peter's head, “Erik. Let us allow Mrs Maximoff and Peter to talk. Care for a game of chess?” he asked his old friend, receiving a grateful look from the fine features of Mrs Maximoff. _And perhaps a Scotch too? I can see you need a glass or two._ He added silently.

            “Of course, Charles.” Erik said, turning away from his former wife and towards his friend turned enemy turned 'it's-a-grey-area' associate.

            The familiar chess board floated through the air towards the pair, settling calmly onto the table between the two beside two glasses and a crystal decanter as Magda clasped her son's hands in her own.

            “Pietro... Peter... what is this? What did they do to you?” she asked, pain of seeing her son weak and injured.

            “It doesn't matter... I'm good now, you don't have to worry I –”

            “Pietro, I'm your mother, telling me not to worry is like... like, I don't know, like telling you not to run, or telling you not to steal any more. It's a waste of words.” she said sternly, though her affection couldn't be hidden by the harshness of her words.

            “I got a few scratches, that's all ma, I swear.” said Peter with a look of angelic innocence on his face, the one he habitually put on whenever he was lying.

            “Pietro...”

            “Mama, I'm fine.” Peter assured her confidently, “Magnets and Wheels patched me up okay.” he told her jerking his head in the direction of the chess playing pair, who conveniently seemed to ignore the nicknames they'd been given.

            Magda gave him a small smile as the pair looked over in their direction, and Lorna chose that particular moment to cough deliberately loudly to catch her mother's attention.

            “Yes sweetie?” Madga asked smiling fondly at her daughter.

            “Muma,” Lorna interrupted, she'd heard Peter's true name, the one she'd been told not to use, “You called Petey Pietro. You said not to call him that. You said people would be mean to Petey if we called him Pietro. You said –”

            “I know I did sweetheart.” Magda replied taking her daughter's small hand in hers, “But there's no one here who'll hurt him if we call you brother his proper name.”

            “Okay Muma....” Lorna nodded and resumed her playing with Peter, or rather, Pietro's silver hair. Delighted that he was sitting still long enough for her to properly braid his hair, it was just a shame she didn't have any bobbles to tie the ends of the plaits up in. She made do by tying the first two in knots before Peter shooed her hands away.

            “Lo, you're gonna make my hair as tangled as yours.” he teased, “Remember how long it took me to untangle that birdsnest?”

            “A minute.” Lorna replied with a shrug.

            “Yeah, a whole minute. Which for me is like a whole hour.”

            Lorna stuck out her tongue and poked him playfully on the chest, unknowingly tapping the spot where Alves had slipped the larger of the disks into his body. Peter hissed in pain as her small fingertips tapped the healing wound.

            “Pietro?!” Magda asked, jumping into action in the way only a mother could, “Where are you hurt? Tell me young man or I will find out myself.”

            “Just a cut mum.” Peter whined, he wished she'd stop prying, though he couldn't deny that it was good to have her there, her and little Lorna.

            “That's what you said when you broke your arm falling out of the tree in the back garden of our first house.” Magda countered, “And that's what you said when you ran into a wall and broke your nose. Pietro, tell me what's wrong.”

            Unbeknownst to any of the Maximoffs, Erik and Charles had halted in their game, and were now carefully watching the transaction.

            _Erik, I simply dressed the wound on his chest. I didn't think to check in case there was –_

“There's something inside me.” Peter told her, though he was essentially addressing the whole cabin, “I was a bit out of it in the lab, and I was a bit out of it when I got on the jet. But I remember now... I can feel it in there... Lo moved it. And in my arm... there's one there too.” he said sounding guilty over not having mentioned it beforehand.

            Magda gaped at him, lost for words as she crossed the gap between them and pulled him into a tight hug, with Lorna sandwiched, fairly happily, between the pair.

            “Erik, don't you dare drop this plane again.” Charles warned him before Erik even had the chance to react, chess game now clearly abandoned, “I'd like not to lose any more limbs. Now How far out are we? This is something Hank needs to take a look at.” he said taking control of the situation as best he could.

            Erik breathed deeply, eyes lingering on Peter before moving back to Charles, he backed away and moved quickly into the cockpit, glancing down at the network of dials before him, “Fifteen minutes, Charles.” a steely expression grew across his face, “Scratch that. Five minutes Charles. Hold on tight.” he said knowing he could afford to waste as little time as possible. They'd hurt his son. And once he was certain the Peter was okay then he would hunt them down, no matter what anyone said he would hunt them down and tear them limb from limb.

            Charles nodded, brow furrowed in concern, how could he have missed it? How could he have not thought to check if there was anything in the wounds he'd been patching up? And for that matter, what if there was something in his leg too? Christ, just as he'd thought they were on their way out of the woods...

            All on board could feel the plane speed up, tearing through the air towards the mansion. Erik remained within the cockpit, preparing for descent.

            “Muma... What's happening? What's wrong with Petey?” the eight-year-old asked, clinging tightly onto her brother as though he were her lifeline.

            “Nothing dear, he's okay, he's just fine. When we land I'm going to need you to let mummy take care of Peter okay? I need to make sure everything's okay with him. You know how much trouble your brother can get into sometimes.”

            Lorna nodded, sniggering slightly, “He broke the slushie machine when he tried to steal me a slushie. Petey's like a dream catcher, but a trouble catcher.”

            “Hey, you'd better not start sticking feathers all over me kiddo.” Peter teased, making sure to remain light hearted on the outside, he couldn't let himself freak out, that would scare his wee sister too much. And that was definitely something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

            “Pinky promise.” Lorna nodded smugly, crossing two fingers of her other hand behind her back. The next chance she got she would cover him in feathers and glue, maybe even sequins.

            “Yeah Lo, pinky promise.” Peter smirked, gripping her small pinky in his own.

            “We're landing!” Erik called through from the cockpit, “Sit down and strap in, I'd rather not deal with any more injuries than I have to.” he said sounding moderately irritated, though it was just his fear for his son escaping him through anger.

            As soon as the jet was back in the hangar, Erik flung the door open. Well, open was a relative term, he flung the door clean off its hinges and it tumbled and rolled off into a far coner. Hank could deal with it later.

            “Charles, get Hank. Peter, come with me.” he instructed, gripping his son's arm and leading his down the stairs.

            “Hey, I can still walk, old man. You don't have to be my crutch or anything.”

            “Peter dear, do me a favour and stop talking.” Magda asked kindly, “Whatever you said is in you needs to be seen to immediately, I can't lose you again.”

            “Fine.” Peter huffed, “But don't let Lorna wander off.”

            “He's on his way to the medical wing.” Charles said quickly, wheeling himself towards the elevator, “Get in.” he said as the doors pinged open and the five of them quickly piled in, “Now, Lorna, I need you to go find your brother's room and to wait there until your mother comes to find you, okay?” he asked her, slyly pressing two fingers to the side of his head.

            “Like hide and seek?” she asked, “But I don't know where his room is.” she pointed out smartly.

            “Exactly.” Charles nodded with a smile, “And... now you do.” he said projecting a set of directions into her young mind.

            “Go on sweetie.” Magda said as the lift pinged open and Charles wheeled himself out.

            “Professor?” Hank asked poking his head out the door of their doctor's office, “The others are watching TV in the lounge.” he told him, “That okay?”

            “That's fine Hank, thank you. Now, I need you to see to something that may be lodged within Mr Maximoff here.”

            “Two somethings.” Peter added, moving away from his mother towards the front of the group.

            “You gonna tell me what sort of somethings?” Hank asked as he motioned for Peter to sit down on a bed.

            “Non-metal.” Erik told him, “I would have been able to sense them otherwise.”

            “Right. Peter, I need you to take off your shirt and your trousers. I'm going to scan you quickly to locate said 'somethings.' You know, it'd be useful if you guys'd give me a bit more to go off than 'something'.”

            Peter nodded and, in a flurry of movement was sitting on the bed in his boxers. Bandages on full display. Magda's heart fluttered in worry and sadness over the pain he must have experienced at the hands of those monsters, whoever they were.

            “You guys gonna look away or anything?” Peter asked Charles and his parents, man it still felt weird saying 'parents', “I mean. I know I'm better looking than all of you, but you don't need to keep staring, it's getting a little weird.”

            “Of course.” Charles said politely and wheeled himself around in a three point turn to face in the opposite direction, followed soon after by both Magda and Erik.

            “I'm going to need you to lie down.” Hank said as he bustled about the room, quickly ensuring everything he'd for the scan was set up. He wheeled the bed over to the far corner of the room, under what looked to be a low handing array of strip lights, “Close your eyes Pete.” he said as he flicked the switch. A blue light shone down onto him from the light fixture looking thing, moving up and down his body numerous times before shutting itself off.

            “That it?” Peter asked, opening his eyes to see everyone facing his direction once more, but not actually looking at him, rather the screen built into the wall beside his head.

            Marked in red were two disks of different sizes, both sitting deep within his muscle tissue.

            “I'm gonna have to cut these out.” Hank said frowning, “Charles?”

            “Sleep.” Charles instructed, tapping two fingers to his temple, gingerly brushing the edge of the boy’s mind, it seemed this was about as close as he could safely get without initiating another headache.

            Before Peter could even say a world to retaliate, he was out light a light, Magda rushed over to him as Hank pulled the bed out from under the scanner and wheeled it over to where he'd perform the, hopefully quick, operation.

            The first incision was made into his arm, with Erik and Magda sitting vigil on either side of him, which, Hank had to admit, was a slight hindrance. But he wasn't about to tell Mrs Maximoff to back off, after all, she'd just got her son back. And he wasn't about to tell Magneto to back off because that could probably earn him a chair to the head, if he was lucky, more likely a fridge or a car if he was unlucky. Which, when it came to Erik, he usually was. Charles, thankfully was sat further away, still watching Hank's every move with intense care, he couldn't help but feel as though each movement was being scrutinised. Carefully, he edged a pair of tweezers into the fresh wound, once the surgical incision was made deep enough, and began to pull out the smaller of the two bloodstained disks. Hank's fingers made light work of stitching up the wound before the scalpel was back in his hands and hovering above the healing wound over the kid's chest. Hank cast a quick glance towards Erik and Mrs Maxifmoff, though neither of them pain him any heed, they were both focused solely on the scars and the scalpel. The sharp blade tore carefully through the wound, slicing through fibres of muscle as it made its way slowly towards the second disk. Hank picked the, now bloodied, tweezers and carefully eased them into the wound, holding it open with his gloved fingers. After what felt like far too long the second disk joined the first on the metal tray by the bed.

            “What are they?” Magda asked as the wound was sewn shut, “What did they put in my boy? What did they do to him?” he asked, desperation leaking though the strength in her voice.

            “I'm sorry Magda, but I don't know. But Hank and I, we'll do our upmost to find out what these disks are. You and Erik need to talk. Peter should be fine now, he'll simply be resting. So we'll leave the pair of you in peace. Erik knows the mansion, in case you'd rather not discuss things with Peter in the room.” Charles said as he began to reverse out of the room, tray bearing the discs on his lap and Hank following quickly in tow.

            “Thank you, my friend.” Erik said with a genuine smile of gratitude.

            “We'll leave you two to it.” he said with a nod as Hank pulled the door shut behind them.

            As soon as the door had closed, Magda stood up and closed the distance between her and Erik. “How. Dare. You. Come. Back. Into. His. Life!” she yelled, grabbing a newspaper off the counter and hitting him over the head with every word, “How dare you come swanning back in and call him your son?! He is _my_ son! You didn't raise him. I did. You didn't forfeit your sleep to make sure he was comfortable at night. You. Did. Nothing! You are not his father Erik Lehnsherr. You're a sperm donor, nothing more!” she snapped, hitting him over the head once more.

            Erik did nothing to stop the tirade of hatred and hitting that came his way, this was going to be exhausting. “I didn't raise him because I didn't know he existed. You kept him from me, Magda. You kept him and Wanda from me. Why? Wh –”

            “I will not let my children be raised by a murderer. You killed all those people back then. You've killed so many more since then. You killed the President for crying out loud! You have left a trail of blood behind you since we parted ways, Erik. So you'll forgive me if I didn't seek you out to give you the good news. Pietro and Wanda were the best things to ever happen to me. I couldn't let you ruin that for me, Erik, I couldn't.”

            The mutant sighed and ran a hand through his tired hair, “Believe it or not I can understand.” he admitted. He wouldn't deny that he was a flawed man, but that did not mean that he couldn't try to be a father, “And, also, Kennedy's death was an accident, I was merely trying to save him. You oughtn't believe everything you hear on the news Magda, there are always two sides to every story.”

            Magda ran a hand through her hair, setting the – now battered -  newspaper back down onto the counter. “I can't do this right now Erik. You coming back into his life is one thing. But you coming back into his life after he's had god knows what done to him...” she shook her head, “I won't tell you to stay away from him, because he'd hate me forever if I did so. Just... just let him find his own way through this mess. Let him decide for himself if he wants you to be a part of his life once more. Let him decide for himself if he wants to introduce you to Wanda. Let him –”

            “Magda,” Erik interrupted, “Don't worry. I'm not about to take him away from you, if that's what you're worried about.” he assured her, “Trust in me when I say this, my main concern right now is ensuring Peter is safe and ensuring those fuckers never come after him again. But, perhaps, this is a conversation better suited to a time when Peter is at his full strength as opposed to lying unconscious in a hospital wing.” he said with a sigh.

            Magda nodded, “Yes... you're right.” she muttered, “But, Erik, could you give me some time alone with him? Please?” she asked.

            Erik nodded, sighing slightly, “I'll be with McCoy and Charles should you need anything, let me know when he comes to will you?” he asked her as he made his way towards the door, “He's not just your son.” he said quickly before turning away and pulling the door closed behind him, leaving Magda alone with their son.

            “So.” Erik said as he entered Hank's lab, “What have we found?”

            “Erik.” Charles said in greeting, looking up from the two disks before him, “I'm afraid you're not going to like what you hear.”

            “Out with it Charles.” Erik snapped.

            “This one,” Hank began, indicating to the larger disk, it contained a chemical of some sort. Set to release at the signal of a remote trigger.”

            “Care to elaborate on what sort of chemical exactly this was, Hank?” Erik asked bitterly, stony cold expression fixed on the young scientist.

            “I'm working on it.” Hank muttered in annoyance, “Professor, can you tell him to stop breathing down my neck all the time?” he asked grumpily, he couldn't stand Erik, and it was taking every morsel of his self-control to refrain from turning blue there and then.

            “The other disk?” Erik growled, clearly not in the mood to be around Hank either.

            “In the other disk lies a great problem.” Charles replied, “We've disabled it now, but there's no telling what damage could already have been done.”

            “Dammit Charles tell me what it is!” Erik snapped.

            “It's a tracer.” Charles told him, “If Stryker's following the signal then he knows exactly where Peter is. Where you both are.”

            “Professor.” Hank's worried voice cut through the tension between the other two, “Professor it's active again.”

            “I thought you said you'd disabled it!” Erik snapped in a venomous outburst or rage.

            “I thought I had!” Hank countered, rising to his feet and drawing himself to his full height, seriously... he was this close to becoming a not-so-cuddly blue bear, “They must have wirelessly reactivated it! This means they know where to find us.” he pointed out in an angry yell, “They'll be coming back for him! They'll be coming here for you.” _Although don't expect me to stop them if they want to have their go with you, you cocky prick._

 _Hank. I can hear you._ Charles said mentally, raising an eyebrow in the Doctor's direction.

            “Sorry.” muttered Hank under his breath.

            “Erik. We need to move him.” Charles said sternly.

            “I'm not running away Charles.” Erik said firmly, “If we run we'll have no way of tracking them down again. Not to mention you have nowhere else to take these new students you've taken in.” he pointed out, “I need Peter kept safe. And I need his sister and mother kept safe. I'll take care of Stryker.” he said firmly.

            “Erik...” Charles began.

            “No, Charles. You know as well as I do that running is not an option. We have more mutants than just the three of us at our disposal. We can use them to fight.”

            “Erik, no.” Charles said strongly, “I will not allow you to use my students as pawns in your war. I won't.” he said, voice bubbling with determination, he would not let Erik have his way with this one.

            “Charles...” Erik sighed, shaking his head, “Someday they will all have to fight for their place in this world, in this society which refuses to accept our kind. Kid yourself as much as you like, but we all will have to fight at some point in our lives for the right to our lives. Don't tell me that after all these years you're still as naïve as you were when we first met.”

            “Erik... no. I won't let you use them as pawns. I won't. We'll fight Stryker ourselves.”

            “You can't fight him Charles. You can't even walk.”

            “And whose fault is that?” Charles countered.

            “I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Erik roared, anger threatening to bubble over the edge “But regardless, where do you suppose we take this fight then?” he asked, breathing deeply as he calmed himself down.

            “I don't know...” Charles muttered, shaking his head, “Hopefully to him.” he suggested, “I'll see if I can locate Stryker through cerebro.” he said, and without further ado, wheeled himself out of the room, Hank following quickly on his heels, or rather, wheels.

            Erik shook his head with a sigh as he watched the pair leave. His cold eyes drifted down to the two plastic disks on the table before him, paternal instinct he hadn’t known he had kicking in, he snatched up the tracer disk and stuffed it into his pocket. He strode purposefully down the hallway, suitcase flying towards him as he headed for the door. He snapped his fingers for his helmet and it came soaring through the air towards him. His suitcase opened itself and his helmet nestled itself inside amidst his body armour and his clothes. Just as Erik was placing his fedora onto his head and unfolding his sunglasses, he heard a patter of feet in the hallway behind him.

            “Hey, Mr Erik Magnets.” Lorna called out as she ran towards him, she wasn't sure that was really his name, but Peter had called him Magnets and Charles Xavier had called him Erik, so one of them must be right.

            “Yes Lorna?” Erik asked, deciding that he could leave the correction of his name to another time, provided there would be one.

            “What are you doing?” she asked him, “And how can you do that?” she asked tapping the floating suitcase with her small hands.

            “It's my power.” He explained, crouching down so that he was level with her, “I can move metal. Just like how your brother is super-fast.”

            “Oooh.” Lorna said, mouth forming a perfect 'O', “But you didn't tell me where you were going.” she pointed out, damn this kid was a smart cookie.

            “I'm...” Erik began unsure of quite what to tell her, children weren't exactly his forte.

            “Are you going to get Pete and get well soon present?” she asked him.

            “Yes.” Erik replied, he hadn't even needed to come up with the lie, although he could hardly call murdering his son's kidnapper a “get well soon present”, “Yes, exactly. But I want it to be a surprise, okay Lorna? So you tell no one that I've gone to get it, okay?” he asked, “It'll be our secret, deal?”

            Lorna nodded and grabbed his hand, the one without the sunglasses in it, and fiercely shook it, “Deal. Oh, and Mr Magnet, can you get him some candy bars from me. He loves candy bars. And muma won't let me go get him any.” she said pouting.

            “Of course.” Erik said kindly, “And you can call me Erik.” he added as he stood up and slid on his sunglasses before pulling on his long grey coat and plucking his case out of the air.

            “Okay Erik.” Lorna said with a broad grin as Erik headed towards the front door and opened it without touching it, presumably with his powers.

            “And remember, our secret.” he said tapping the side of his nose and his powers pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Lorna standing in the entrance hall. Once more with nothing to do. She'd found some other people in the living room a short while earlier, but lots of them had special powers too, and she didn't really fit in. Lorna sat down on the stairs with a sigh and took a coin out of her pocket. She carefully set it down on the ground by her trainer-clad feet and cupped her chin with both her hands, brow furrowed in deep concentration as she started at the coin. She grunted and growled, urging the coin to move, begging it to move. Eventually, a sigh escaped her lips, she wasn't special. She was never going to be special. She was just ordinary and boring. Just like her mum. She stood up, grumbling in frustration as she stomped her foot on the stairs, and suddenly, the small metal coin went shooting across the floorboards, hitting the wall at the other side of the entrance hall. She'd done it. She'd moved the coin. She was special too. She was a mutant too. She could move metal, just like Mr Magnet Man. Just like Magneto.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Things have been getting crazy and it's been hard to stay on top of everything. But here we are with a new chapter!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it and it you do please leave a comment! You've no idea how much they mean to me and how much they motivate me to write!
> 
> Enjoy!

Wanda's leg bounced up and down impatiently, she didn't even care that she might be irritating the hell out of the people sat on either side of her. The woman in the aisle seat frowned down at her leg, well, it was less of a frown and more of a vain attempt at moving her botoxed facial features.

            _Bet you wish you'd spent that money on a first class seat rather that making your face plastic._ Wanda thought to herself, a snide smirk crossing her face as she locked eyes with Mrs Botox. Her leg still didn't stop bouncing.

            After her mother had phoned her she'd nearly blown up the phone out of the overprotective fraternal bond she and her twin shared. She couldn't believe that her mother had waited until after Peter was found to call her up and let her know he'd gone missing and gotten himself tortured by a few maniacs. She knew Magda had her reasons, but that didn't stop her being pissed. If her mother had called her sooner she may have been able to help, perhaps she'd have even been able to find that silver-haired idiot before anything had happened to him. And what had even happened? Magda had been a little vague in her explanations, Wanda couldn't help but assume that the whole ordeal with Peter may have driven her mother back to the bottle.

            Magda had started drinking shortly after Lorna's father had left. Not badly, not enough to warrant _Alcoholics Anonymous_ classes, but too much to be considered normal and healthy. Her mind wandered back to the day Peter had broken that maniac out the Pentagon. Lorna had stomped into Wanda's room, the pouty little princess that she was, in her dress and crown, had flopped onto Wanda's red beanbag – on which Wanda was already sitting – and folded her arms. She declared loudly that their mother had sent her to bug Wanda so that Lorna wouldn't bug her mother. It seemed like such a trivial thing to someone of her age, but to a little kid, being told to go away was like being told you weren't loved. So it was then, in her and Peter's final year of high school that she decided to get Magda off the drink. And though it had taken time, it had worked. But now she couldn't help but wonder if the messy situation with Peter had driven her back. She dearly, for once in her life, hoped to be wrong.

She wasn't.

            Magda was sat by Peter's bed with a glass of Charles' Scotch in hand as she watched her son sleep. It had been a tough week; she'd earned the right to a drink. She hadn't heard from her other daughter since Wanda had hung up the phone in a fit of rage, she could only hope that she was on her way, after all, Peter needed her, and she needed to find out about who her father was. It had taken her a lot of thinking to come to that decision, but in the end, it would be cruel to let Peter know and Wanda not. Also, she doubted Peter would be able to keep it a secret for very long.

            Her long fingers stroked Peter's silver hair as he slept, she had no idea how long it would take for him to awake, but she knew that she had to be by his side when he did so. She was roused from the thoughts by the sound of small feet making their way towards her.

            “Muma?” Lorna called out as she made her way over to the bed.

            “Hello darling.” Magda said with a smile, “I was wondering where you'd got to.”

            “Is he okay?” Lorna asked, straight to the point.

            “He is now sweetheart, he is now.” she said, trying her best to keep up the facade, but under the influence of the alcohol is was growing increasingly harder. Truthfully, she knew Peter was still in danger, the tracer they'd pulled out of him would inevitably lead them right back to him. But she couldn't move him, not while he still needed to heal. So she'd have to face whatever came her way, and she knew in her heart that, like Erik, she would do whatever it took to protect her family, to protect her son.

            Wanda's plane touched down as the sun began to set on that day, making way for night. She hoisted her travel bag up onto her shoulder and made her way through all the necessary controls towards the exit as quickly as she could. She had barely stepped through the doors and into the cool night air when she heard her name being called out. Turning to the left, she saw him, a man in a wheelchair.

            “How do you know my name?” she asked him suspiciously.

            “I can read your mind.” the Englishman told her, “I know your brother, Peter.” he added.

            “Xavier.” she said, remembering the name of the man her mother had told her about.

            “Exactly, now, hop into a cab. I've a fair bit to talk to you about once you reach the mansion, as does your mother I suspect. But now I must go. In truth I was searching for someone else, it was just a happy coincidence I stumbled upon your mind.”

            “Right, okay.” Wanda said, giving him a funny look as she climbed into the taxi, “Wait, what's the address again?” she asked him.

            “Your driver knows it.” Charles said, “I just told him.”

            “With your mind?”

            “With my mind.” he confirmed, “I'll be seeing you soon Miss Maximoff, have a nice journey.” he said, and with that, he was gone. As though he'd never been there in the first place. Wanda frowned, that had just added to the huge list of questions she already had, though it relieved her to know that at least some of the answers she was looking for were at the mansion. She settled back into her seat as the taxi pulled away from the airport and began the drive towards the Xavier Mansion.

            Charles was sat in Cerebro, with Hank stood behind him as he flitted from mind to mind, searching for William Stryker. Unfortunately, he'd had no such luck. He'd searched every state in America and come up with nothing, he'd even ventured into Canada, though he doubted Stryker would hole up there, after all, he was after Peter.

            “Anything?” Hank asked as the Professor removed the helmet and set it down onto the console.

            “No Stryker.” Charles said with a sigh, shaking his head as he began to wheel himself towards the door, “I did find Peter's twin Wanda however.” he told him.

            “His twin?” Hanks asked, “I hope she's less of a handful than Peter.” he muttered, “Is she on her way here?”

            Charles nodded, “We have twenty minutes until she arrives.” he said.

            “Okay.” Hank said with a nod, “I'm gonna go see to the others, I think I'm just going to order everyone a takeaway, I don't think we have enough food in the cupboards to cook for twenty people.”

            Charles nodded, “No, I don't suppose we do, up until now it was just the two of us here. But no matter, the more the merrier. We may even be able to start the school back up.” he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

            “Yeah.” Hank said with a grin, he was desperate to start the school back up, the Professor hadn't been the same without it, “Oh, and one more thing.” he said as they reached the lift, “Could you maybe read everyone's mind's to get their orders?” he asked, “Only, there's a lot of people and...”

            “No problem, Hank.” Charles said with a light chuckle, he knew well how chaotic it could be, last night, after Hank had operated on Peter, had been a testament to that. Trying to get over a dozen mutants to negotiate over a Pizza menu was not easy going. “Do you have a pen?”

            Wanda rapped loudly on the door, “Hello?” she called.

            The door opened soon after, a blonde girl pulling it open, “Hi?” she said, looking Wanda up and down, “You are?”

            “Wanda Maximoff.” Charles interrupted, “I'll take it from here, thank you Miss Silverfox. I'm sure the next visitor will be the delivery man.”

            “Kay.” Emma said with a shrug and sauntered away, turning back into her glass form as she disappeared down a corridor.

            “She can turn into glass?” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow.

            “Just like how you can perform acts of, what some would call, magic.”

            “Huh. Cool.” she said with a shrug, ordinarily she would be interested but she had more pressing concerns, “Now where's Peter?”

            “Follow me, feel free to leave your bag at the foot of the stairs.”

            “I'm fine.” she shook her head, securing her bag on her shoulder as she followed Charles down through the corridors.

            “Pietro, you idiot!” Wanda yelled as she flung the door open and saw the sleeping form of her twin on the bed.

            “Wanda!” Lorna exclaimed happily, jumping down from the foot of Peter's bed and running over to hug her older sister.

            “Hey kiddo.” Wanda said, brought out of her outburst by the small hands of the eight-year-old as they wrapped themselves around her waist, “I missed you. Now budge monkey, I gotta talk to Pete.”

            “Fine.” Lorna pouted, resuming her position at the foot of Peter's bed.

            Charles wheeled himself away down the corridor, he was of the opinion that the family needed their space, his time would be better spent with the other mutants, an explanation of what had happened to them was long overdue.

            “Wanda.” Magda said, face breaking out into a smile as she set the empty Scotch glass down on the bedside table, “Oh I'm so happy to see you!”

            “Why didn't you tell me when he went missing?!” she exclaimed, frowning intently at the glass.

            “Oh Wanda I'm sorry, I was too worried, I didn't want you to worry too.” Magda replied.

            Wanda opened her mouth to reply when she was nearly head butted by her brother as he sat up with a start.

            “Wanda!”

            “Peter!”

            The twins grinned, embracing each other in bone-crushing hugs.

            “Petey!” Lorna screamed with excitement, jumping up and squeezing into the middle of the hug, “You're alive!”

            “Glad to hear you had so little faith in me Kiddo,” Peter joked, pulling away from the hug, “Hey mum.” he said with a smile as Magda leaned over the bed and pulled him into another hug. He really hoped his family hadn't torn any of his stitches.

            “What're you doing here?” Peter asked, turning his attention back to Wanda, “I mean, I'm happy to see you but –”

            “Shut up, I came because I heard my stupid brother got himself hurt.” she teased, “You think I'd be able to concentrate in class if I knew you were hurt?” she pointed out.

            “How did you know?”

            “Mum called me.”

            “You didn't...?”

            “No.” Wanda shook her head, “I guess it doesn't work long distance, or something was blocking it.”

            “Second.”

            “Someone was blocking it?”

            “Prof's telepathy didn't work in there, some signal blocker blocking the building and some mutant blocking it too.”

            “Some mutant? Did you get them?”

            “Not sure.”

            “Not sure?”

            “Dude, was a little woozy by that point.”

            “Ah yeah, sorry.”

            “S fine.”

            “What happened?”

            “Can I have some food first?”

            “Mum?”

            “Lorna,” Magda said, “Let's get them some food, yeah?” she asked, standing up.

            “Mmm. Okay. But only if I get some too.” Lorna said, running towards the door.

            The pair watched them go, but Wanda quickly focused her attention back on her brother, “So, what happened?”

            “Do I have to?” Peter huffed.

            “Yes.”

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            “If I tell you will you shut up?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Fine.”

            “Go on then.”

            Peter sighed, piling up his pillows and leaning back on them, making himself comfortable before beginning. He began to tell her about the gas and the trunk and the car ride and the drugging and the chains and the treadmill and the burgers and the mirrored wall and the collar and the table and the doctors and the scalpels. Wanda was staring at him, mouth agape the entire time. As he spoke of the doctors her hands drifted to the visible scars. The ones on his chest and on his arm.

            “God... Pietro...”

            “You said you'd shut up.”

            “You can't tell me this and expect me to say nothing.” Wanda pointed out.

            “I know...” Peter muttered, shaking his head, “I'm scared Wanda. Erik and the Prof got me out once. But... he's gonna come back. I don't want him to find out about you too.”

            “I've got you Pete, and you've got me. No sick bastard is gonna get us.” she said determinedly, “And if he does, we'll be ready brother. You're healing already.” she said, lightly tracing the scar above his heart as it slowly started to fade. The wound on his leg would take more time to heal, the electricity burns too, but within a few more hours, they too would be gone.

            “Wanda, there's something else I gotta tell you. It's about this Erik guy.”

            “Yeah...?”

            “He's Magneto.”

            “What?!”

            “Yup.”

            “No...”

            “Yeah...”

            “The terrorist guy you broke out of jail?”

            “Yep.”

            “I still think you're an idiot for doing that.”

            “Shut up, that's not the point.”

            “Well what is the point? He owed you one anyway.”

            “He's our dad.”

            “What?”

            “He is our dad, father, daddy, pops, the guy mum did to make us.”

            “I didn't need the graphics.”

            “Your face is funny when you're uncomfortable though.”

            “Shut up. Tell me you're joking.” she huffed, though she knew her brother well enough to know that he wasn't joking “Please tell me this is some weird ass wind up.”

            “I could lie and tell you it’s some weird ass wind up.” Peter offered.

            “Shut up weirdo.”

            “You're the weird one.”

            “How are you so cool with knowing that that psychopath is our dad?”

            “Oh, I don't know, maybe because he saved my skin? Maybe because when the psycho doctors nicked my blood they did a DNA test? Maybe because that guy suddenly became more protective over me than mum ever was when he found out?”

            “Where is he then? I wanna meet him. I'll know if he's for real when I meet him.”

            “How should I know? I'm not a telepath. And I'm hungry.”

            “And annoying.” Wanda said with a smile, regardless how much the pair bickered, she loved him to bits.

            Erik strolled down an empty street, tracker in his pocket as he waited for Stryker, he made sure to pause every so often outside an abandoned house, hoping to give the impression that that was where he and Peter were hiding. But in reality it was just him, and he was far from hiding.


	10. Chapter 10

Wanda sat back in a chair, processing everything Peter had told her. Each time she thought about the horror he'd been put through, a knot tightened itself in her stomach, threatening to explode out in a fit of tears. Erik... they must have lied to Peter because Erik could not be her father, he could not be their father. He just couldn't, that man was an absolute psychopath. He dropped and entire stadium over the White House. He killed one President. He nearly killed another. That type of guy was not father material. Sure, he'd helped get Peter out of a sticky situation, but come one, the guy owed Peter for what he'd done for him, breaking someone out of the Pentagon is no easy feat. She ran a hand through her hair and looked back up at Peter who was drumming his fingers impatiently.

            “You done thinking yet?” he asked, “Only, I'm getting a little bored here.”

            “You literally dropped a mind bomb on me, let me absorb it all.” she said with an eye roll.

            Just then, Magda came back into the room, opening the door for Lorna who cantered in with four flimsy tupperwares full of Chinese take-away piled up in her arms. Lorna deposited two chicken chow meins on Peter's lap and some other weird chicken thing that smelt of her shampoo, if it was chicken flavoured, on Wanda's lap before sitting down on her own chair with her own tub of egg fried rice on her knees. The three all dug in as Magda glanced contentedly between them, her kids. Hers, not Erik's, hers. Things seemed, at last, to be looking up for her family, sure, there were a whole bunch more obstacles to overcome, but they'd cross each bridge when they came to it.

            Peter and Wanda glanced at each other, eyes saying words their mouths were too full to.

            _You should tell mum you know,_ Peter said with a look, jerking his head a fraction in their mother's direction.

            _She knows too?_ Wanda's brow furrowed.

            _Yeah. I didn't tell her though._

 _Erik?_ She raised her eyebrow.

            A nod, _That's the one._

“Mum...” Wanda said, wiping her mouth with a tissue before tossing it into the bin along with the, now empty, tupperware box.

            “Mhm hm?” Magda said, looking up from her own box of food, brought out of her thoughts, “What is it?”

            “How do you know Magneto?”

            “He...” Magda frowned, before glancing at Peter who, as ever, had the expression of the guiltiest angel trying to play innocent on his face, “You already know how, don't you?”

            “I want to hear it from you.” Wanda said stonily.

            “We go way back, back to the war.” she said, hesitating slightly before bringing up the war, “We... we got away, away from Poland, and started up a new life for ourselves. We had a daughter.”

            “Me?” Wanda asked.

            Magda shook her head, “Anya.” she told her.

            “I have another sister?” Lorna asked, piping in.

            “Not anymore sweetie, she...” her voice began to crack, “She died in a fire, she was... she was only five years old.”

            “Oh...” Lorna said, looking down at her toes with a frown, “Was she nice?”

            “She was wonderful; you would have loved her sweetheart.” Madga said with a teary eyed smile as she pulled Lorna closer to her, needing the warmth of someone else to latch onto to be able to get through the story, “But Erik... he...” she shook her head, “They wouldn't let us into the building, they wouldn't let us go back for her and he got angry, he got so angry his powers got out of control. He killed every officer on the scene. This was the first I'd heard about his powers, I thought... I though he was a monster. So I ran, I came to America and then, 8 months after Anya died, you two were born. He is your father, I have no doubt about that.” she assured them, “I didn't want to tell you, I didn't want you to grow up knowing your father was a monster. But then your mutations appeared and I... I didn't know what to do. I thought about tracking him down so many times but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. You two were my priority. But then...but then I met him once more, years later, at a bar. It had been a rough day, you’d been stealing again Peter and I needed a drink.” she told them slowly, voice wavering as she did so, “And we... you know.”

            “I don't wanna know.” Peter interrupted, making a face.

            “When was this?” Wanda demanded, shushing her brother with a vague wave in his direction.

            “Around...” she paused, it was now or never, “Around n... nine months before Lorna was born.”

            “No...” the twins said in unison, “You're kidding me.”

            “Like...” Peter only just managed to stop himself swearing to express his bewilderment, Lorna was in the room and he had always been determined to not be the sort of brother who taught their eight-year-old sister swear words, “Gah, uh... I thought I was the joker in this family. Is this some kind of weird twisted joke?”

            “Do you see me laughing?” Magda pointed out, her face resigned as she ran a hand through her bleached hair, “Listen. There's only a fifty percent chance she could be his. I went back the next night but… but he wasn’t there. And that was the night I met your step-father. Lorna’s father. Well, I thought he was. I didn’t want to believe the other way.”

            “Mum!” Wanda exclaimed, looking at her in outrage. She'd never taken her for someone who'd sleep around, well, she had, it had just never been something she wanted to think about.

            “I’m confused…” Lorna mumbled.

            “It’s nothing, sweetie,” Magda said calmly, cupping her younger daughter's cheek lightly with a warm smile upon her face, “Could you do me a huge favour honey, could you run and find Erik. I think we all need to have a little talk.”

            “I can't.” Lorna said, glancing down at the ground, the tell-tale sign that a child knew more than they were telling.

            “Why not?” Wanda asked.

            “Because he's not here.”

            “He's not... where did he go?” Magda asked her daughter.

            “I'm not supposed to tell you.” Lorna said as she tapped her toes on the wooden floorboards, twiddling her thumbs as she tried, and failed, to maintain and innocent face.

            “Lorna...” Magda said, voice deepening and hardening, “I don't care what he told you to do, you tell me where that man is right now!”

            “He went to get Pete a get well soon present.” Lorna huffed, folding her arms, “It was supposed to be a secret.” she said accusingly, after all, in her mind they'd all just ruined the surprise.

            “Did he tell you that was where he was going?” Charles asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the room, he hadn't been able to help but overhear the conversation, but once the topic moved to where Erik had gone, he grew worried. Gifts weren't Erik's style.

            “Not exactly...” Lorna mumbled, “I asked him and he said yeah and he told me to keep it secret!” she whined.

            “Thank you Lorna, you've been very helpful.” Charles said kindly, wheeling himself over to the family, that was when he noticed it. On the silver tray, where there should have been two plastic disks, there was one, “Where's the other disk?” he asked, voice suddenly becoming very grave. He knew exactly what Erik had done, exactly what his so-called get well soon present for Peter would be.

            “The other...?” Magda trailed off as she noticed the empty space, “He hasn't... oh god...”

            “I'm afraid he has,” Charles said with a dark nod, he didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking, Erik had gone to hunt down Stryker, he'd made himself bait.

            Erik strolled down an empty street, tracker in his pocket as he waited for Stryker, he made sure to pause every so often outside an abandoned house, hoping to give the impression that that was where he and Peter were hiding. But in reality it was just him, and he was far from hiding.

            “Show yourself Stryker.” he muttered to the thin air, growing impatient as the night grew darker and steadily colder.

            And then there it was, he felt it before he sensed it. The trucks, the jeeps, the iron in the blood of the soldiers. They were here. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but at this distance, he didn't quite know what. He shook his head, he couldn't focus on what could be wrong, he had a job to do. It just so happened that that job remembered exactly who he was and exactly what he could do. It just so happened that that job was carrying a glass dagger and a plastic gun.

            The cars were abandoned a kilometre away from Erik. It would do no good to outright hand, or rather drive, him weapons if they valued their lives and the job they had to do. Stryker took one final glance at the screen inside the truck, memorising the location of the flashing red dot, and motioned for his troops to follow him through the beat up neighbourhood. Half the houses they passed seemed abandoned, and the other half seemed occupied by people who no longer seemed to care how they lived or whether they did or not, people who just went about the routine of life with a leaky roof over their heads and surrounded by draughty walls. These houses seemed to be mostly made of wood, though from the outside he couldn't guess what the foundations contained or what metal appliances the houses themselves contained. Though he'd hazard a guess that Erik had taken Peter here because he knew he'd have enough metal at his disposal to protect his son with. Erik Lehnsherr's son...he'd never forget the euphoria he felt as that discovery was made. Two monsters for the price of one.

            Stryker had made Alves wait behind, he didn't want to lose this doctor. Her medical prowess was magnificent for one thing, but her mutation was quite another, manipulating the electromagnetic spectrum and blocking telepathy, really quite remarkable. No, he'd rather not find a replacement doctor, and it would take an annoyingly long amount of time better spent to find another doctor who possessed a desirable mutation to him.

            As Stryker and his troops rounded the corner, their rubber soled boots pounding on the tarmac as they moved towards the shadowy figure in the middle of the street.

            “Where's the boy?” Stryker asked, walking towards Erik with a smirk upon his face.

            “Did you honestly think I'd be so foolish as to bring him here?” Erik scoffed as he stepped into the light of a lamppost, “But I'm impressed. Plastic tracers, even I couldn't sense them.” he said, taking it out of his pocket and holding it up into the light.

            Stryker scowled at it, this he hadn't expected. He knew Erik was psychotic but he'd retained the hope that he would at least treat his spawn humanely, but no, it seemed that he'd cut the tracer out of his body. “Merriot, take your team and search the buildings, start with that one.” he said, gesturing with his gun towards the one directly behind Erik.

            “I see you came prepared for this fight.” Erik noted, observing the gun with a slight scowl. He couldn't control the bullets unless they were metal. He couldn't turn the gun against Stryker unless it was made of metal. Or unless he surrounded it with metal.

            Magneto's arms rose from his sides and into the air as he lifted himself up into the night sky. He could sense the metal of the pipes beneath the earth as easily as a human could hear the tweet of a bird or feel the breeze on their skin. The metal called out to him, and he answered. He drew it to him, raising it up from beneath the ground and causing the tarmac to crack and crumble. Crevices snaked their way towards the troops as metal began to rise from the ground all around them. He could hear Stryker yelling for his troops to shoot, to bring the monster down. Fingertips twitched towards triggers as metal snakes streaked towards the barrel of each gun. It was a race, one visible to only those who moved at extraordinary speeds. The bullets were quick off the mark, tearing down the barrels of their guns, inching closer and closer to freedom and their target. The snakes of metal bore down on the guns, successfully plugging the barrels of all but one. And that one, came from behind. As Erik filled the guns with metal, coating the insides and the outsides in his element and efficiently halting the bullets in their track, another figure stood behind him. He was the youngest of Stryker's troops, not expecting to be fighting mutants when he signed up for the military, but fighting them none the less. He fired his gun at Lehnsherr's shoulder, deliberately aiming away from vitals.

            The bullet entered his shoulder and Magneto fell to the torn up ground. He propped himself up on his good arm with a groan, scowling as he glanced over his shoulder at the young man who had shot him. Erik had barely any time to move before the youth was on him. His fist clocked Erik on the head, with more force than would be expected for someone that scrawny, and the mutant terrorist fell to the ground, very much unconscious.

            “Johnson, take Arthur and take Lehnsherr back to the jeep. Bandage up his shoulder. If we can take him alive then we will.” Stryker's voice boomed out and the scrawny guy and one other quickly jumped into action. Erik was hauled up onto the shoulder of a young black man marched down the road towards the jeeps, Johnson leading the way.

            Srtyker was looking in shock at the spot on the ground where Lehnsherr had fallen, eyes fixated on that spot of ground.

            “Sir, I though you said to kill Lehnsherr on site.” Higgins piped up from somewhere near the back.

            “I did...” Stryker muttered, brow furrowing as he looked in the direction Johnson and Arthur had just gone in, “That wasn't me...” he muttered, “STOP THEM!”

            Johnson heard Stryker's voice, it had taken him long enough.

            “You hear that?” Arthur asked, halting where he was.

            “Yeah, I heard it.” Johnson said, a smirk that completely didn't fit his persona crossed his face, “And I'm gonna ignore it.” he said as he disappeared in a ripple of blue scales, leaving a woman standing in his place.

            “What the –” Arthur began, but was quickly silenced by a blue elbow in the face. He dropped the unconscious form of Magneto on the ground before being completely knocked out by the butt of the gun in Mistique's hand.

            She stood over Erik, sighing to herself as she crouched down and tried to wake him, “Honestly Erik, I didn't even hit you that hard.” she muttered with an eyeroll as she shook him awake.

            “Did you need to hit me at all Raven, or shoot me?” Erik muttered in a groggy growl as he propped himself up on his good arm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't abandon this! I swore I wouldn't and I haven't!

“Did you need to hit me at all Raven, or shoot me?” Erik muttered in a groggy growl as he propped himself up on his good arm, “Did you not think at all?” he queried, but before she had the chance to reply he spoke again, hearing the angry voices approach, “And now it seems they're onto us.”

            “Well sorry.” she snapped like a petulant teenager, “It's not my fault you were stupid enough to bust into my bust.”

            “Why are you here Raven?” Erik sighed, he didn't have time to argue with her right now. He'd doubted Stryker would bring the women along who'd attacked Peter, and he had been right. But killing Stryker wasn't good enough, he needed to kill the others. He needed to make sure that Peter would never be harmed by them ever again. He needed to kill the Doctors, and the only way to find them was to follow Stryker to them.

            “Same reason as you.”

            “I doubt that.”

            “Oh? Mr Self-Righteous suddenly changed his targets?”

            “Need to know, Raven.” Erik muttered.

            “I should get to know!”

            “It would do no one any good if you did. But let’s just say that I'm doing the mutant population a service.”

            “That's what I'm doing!” she protested, “So why are your reasons any different?”

            “This is not the time Raven.” Erik snapped and knelt down by Arthur, taking the gun from his belt.

            “What are you doing?” she asked him as he laid a plastic disk out on the ground. The bullet pierced the tracer and it shattered into dozens of razor edged pieces. It would cause them no trouble any longer.

            “Taking care of a problem.” he replied, stuffing the gun into the pocket of his own light jacket.

            Mystique sighed, Erik had deserved it right? He'd deserved being shot in the shoulder. He'd tried to kill her, shot her in the leg, damned their race to hatred. She shot him in the neck, somehow, they didn't seem to quite balance out. She let out a little yawn to clear her head from her doubt as Erik lifted a hand up towards the cars and tore the box, through which Stryker had tracked him down, out of the car, concentrating silently as it flew through the air towards him. The cars were no more than half a kilometre away from them, yet the amount of effort Erik had expended in moving a simple box was ridiculous, his shoulder needed fixed up, quickly. Nevertheless, he focused intently on the machine, tearing it apart from the inside out until nothing was left but a shrivelled hunk of plastic and metal lying on the ground.

            “Let's go.” Erik ordered, “Charles will have figured out what I've done by now and set up a search and rescue. He really does hate to be left out, I've noticed.” he informed her as he began to stalk off to the side. They needed to get off the road, and quickly. Stryker's men were minutes behind them and neither mutant fancied an encounter with a bullet.

            Raven wanted to ask him what he was doing with Charles but knew that this was not the time, “No Erik.” she shook her head as she followed him into the darkness, “I have unfinished business with them.” she grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her.

            “Very well,” Erik replied, he didn't have the patience to argue, “Then, whilst you're in his company I need you to find the location of a Dr Alves and her associates.” he told her, “Call Charles once you know.”

            “Hold up. What makes you think I'm going to help you? After everything that happened last year?”

            “Raven.” he said sternly, “I need you to do this. Trust me. I will explain everything once Stryker and the doctors are dead.”

            Raven bit her lip, frowning curiously at him as she let go of his arm, “I'll only do this if you explain to me exactly what is going on.”

            “Raven, there is no time for that now.” Erik reminded her, eyes darting towards the source of the murmur of voices in the distance.

            “Fine. Then forget it.”

            “Call the mansion at eight o'clock in two days’ time, I'll explain then. But not before.”

            Raven scowled at her former crush, “Alright. Now get out of here.” She snapped, unsure if she would even make the call or not. She had two days to decide.

            “Thank you Raven.” Erik replied, and for a moment she wondered if, for once, he actually meant it.

            Both mutants shared one last glance before turning on each other and disappearing off. Erik to the shadows. Raven to the site of their scuffle with Arthur. He was a liability; he'd seen her transform and could easily let the others know who – and what – she was. Grabbing his ankles in her hands, she began to drag him across the tarmac and into the bushes on the verge. Hopefully he'd stay unconscious until she and Stryker's men had long since vanished. With a grunt and a heave, she rolled the body down into the ditch, praying no one would see it. She transformed back into Johnson and a dark bruise blossomed on her forehead as she lay down on the ground, she had to make it look realistic didn't she?

            “Johnson?” Merriot called as he jogged over, “Johnson are you okay?” he asked, shaking the body of, who he thought was, his comrade.

            “I'm sorry...” Mystique slurred, cracking her eyes open weakly, “Arthur, Dakin Arthur. He was one of them. One of the mutants.” she spat distastefully as she ran a hand down her male face, “He just... just grabbed Lehnsherr and teleported away. I don't know where. I'm sorry. They knocked me out before I could do anything.” she whimpered, hoping to heaven that she was putting on a good enough display.

            “Let’s get you into the truck man, we should get you checked out. You might have a concussion. I'll let the boss man know what went down.” Merriot told her as he stood back up again, motioning for two of his subordinates to help Raven up as he slowly himself made his way over to his boss, William Stryker. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Stryker because, after all, it was always the messenger that got shot. But he had to; he was the commanding officer one rank below Stryker; he was the man’s second in command.

            “What happened?” Stryker demanded, temporal vein looking fit to burst as rage radiated across his features.

            “Arthur was a mutant, sir. Teleporter according to Johnson. Knocked him out and took Lehnsherr with him.” Merriot replied, voice only just remaining calm on the exterior but heart pounding from terror of his boss, all he could do was silently plead: _don't shoot the messenger, don't shoot the messenger._

“Teleporter?” Stryker muttered, that didn't explain how his own voice had been used without his permission. Although, it was the case that some mutants did have secondary mutations. Arthur could very well have been one of those, he reasoned. Though how hadn't he seen it? A mutant under his own roof? It seemed impossible; yet there it was, plain as the day. “Tighten security. I want everyone checked. And if you find any mutants that I haven’t authorised to be here, shoot them.”

 

* * *

 

            “Bloody Raven.” Erik thought to himself as he sat back in the abandoned house which he'd previously feigned staying in. Light lit, he took a closer inspection at the wound in his arm. The bullet was still embedded, though there was nothing he could do about that whilst still here. He needed to get to a hospital. He needed to find somewhere out of the way; in a small town where he was unlikely to be recognised as Magneto: The Mutant Terrorist; somewhere where he could recoup and allow his arm to repair. He stood with a sigh, he'd stayed in here long enough. Placing a hand to the bullet wound, he stepped out of the door and strolled as calmly as he could down the ruined road. He would come across his car soon enough; he could taste the hum of the metal in the air as he approached where he knew it would be.

            Before long, the mutant was seated in familiar surroundings, grimacing through the pain in his shoulder as the sleek car tore through country lanes, aiming for the nearest hospital or medical centre. Luck, for once, seemed to be on his side. A little 24 hours’ clinic was stood waiting for him at the edge of a one-road-town. It probably served all the towns, villages and farms within a half hour’s drive of the area.

            Evidently, it was a quiet town and a quiet area, probably seeing little more than two broken arms and a tickly throat a year. He walked in as a warrior, doors swinging shut behind him and arm drenched with his own blood. Yet he still seemed in perfect composure. The woman behind the desk stared in awe, for a good while she had no idea what to say. They never saw anything as serious as this.

            “Doctor!” she yelled, hopping to her feet, “It's an emergency! Like, a real one! Bloody real and blood and oh holy shit I don’t know what I’m supposed to do so please get in here quickly” she added in one rapid-fire breath as she ducked under the counter and ran over to the man, “Oh my fucking God. What in hell happened, sir?” she asked him as she stood before him, gaping in confusion as she stared at the blood.

            “I swear Ashley, if this is another splinter I will –” The doctor stopped as soon as he came through the swinging doors and took in the sight of the man and the blood. His heart skipped a beat. For once he could be a real doctor. “Right this way sir.” he said quickly, ushering Erik through the swinging doors and to the examination room, “Ashley I need you to get me a sterile suture kit.” he instructed as Erik calmly followed the man.

            “You ask no questions, and your life continues on as normal.” Erik said harshly as he took a seat, removing his hand from his shoulder and slipping off the bloodied jacket. Ashely came bumbling into the room, gawping a little as Erik removed his shirts. He may have been way too old for her, but damn... he was a looker. A pointed look from both the doctor and the shirtless patient brought her out of her musing.

            Doctor Arkins was frowning at his patient as he began to clean the wound, “I'm supposed to inform the police if I come across any injuries like yours. Like bullet wounds.”

            “Let’s call this a special case in which you'll keep quiet.” his patient replied, a stern finality carried across through his words that could make a shiver run down the spine of even the sternest woman.

            Arkins' frown deepened, evidently he didn't want to comply but something about this man was telling him that he'd be a fool not to. “Just hold on there a second. I need to get something to numb your shoulder.”

            “Just get on with it, I can handle a little pain. I'm handling a bullet wound aren't I?”

            Arkins had to admit the man had a point, he'd never seen anyone so well composed whilst sat in a doctor's office. Granted, not many people even had cause to enter his office. But still, his point stood. “Alright.” he muttered, hesitating momentarily before reaching into the wound with a pair of metal tweezers and fishing out the bullet. At least, it looked like a bullet. Though it wasn't one he'd ever seen before, made from glass or plastic or something. Just who the hell was this man?

            The transparent bullet landed on the silver tray with a clatter and the doctor began, with shaking hands, to stitch up the wound his patient had suffered. All the while, Ashley watched on from the corner of the room, eyes wide as she took every detail in. She'd never seen a procedure like this before. All her job usually entailed was booking appointments for people with a cough and sending clumsy children through to get fixed by the resident doctor.

            Erik's face remained stoic as the doctor worked. He wouldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt but he had, in his life, experienced so much worse. A bullet wound and stitches were no cause for a cry or a grimace. The only cause for the severity of the expression on his face was the simple fact that Stryker, and his torture team, were all still alive. He would have to return to the mansion having achieved nothing. But he would try again, and again if he had to. He knew, Charles knew, Magda knew, that he would not rest until he was certain that the world had been liberated from Stryker and, most importantly, that his son was under no threat from the bastard.

 

* * *

 

            It was easing into morning when Erik drove up the mansion's driveway, tyres crunching across the gravel beneath. But the first thing he saw as he stepped out the car was not the disapproving gaze of his former lover, it was the piercing black _open_ eyes of Peter as he leant against the window ledge of his make-shift hospital room.

            “Peter. Magda.” he greeted them both, bowing his head formally as he made his way inside – top half covered by only a t-shirt he’d been given by the doctor; he couldn't very well walk back in covered in his own blood now could he?

            “Erik.” Madga sighed, biting her lip, “Did you?”

            “No. There were… complications.” Erik replied, walking through to the kitchen, “But I will.”

            “Good.” Magda said with a rigid nod, “I want that bastard to pay. And everyone else who played a part in this.”

            “I was expecting you to tell me to find another way.”

            “Neither of us are the people we fell in love with, Erik. I want that evil rat dead as much as the next man. Even if the next man is you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day? Crazy! I'm so sorry about the huge wait though. Please do let me know what you think of the story so far!

“So you're this dad guy.” Wanda remarked as she entered the kitchen, brother in tow, “Magneto. Mr 'I damned all mutants'?”

            “It seems so.” Erik nodded, setting his tea down on the ring-stained table, “And you must be Wanda.”

            “You're stating the obvious,” she quipped as the twins took seats at the table. As much as Peter seemed to be willing to trust this guy, she wasn't.

            “Would you rather I was cryptic?”

            “Not really.” she shrugged. A haze of red mist streaming from her hand to the mug, pulling it over to her side of the table, “So Pete broke you out?”

            Erik nodded.

            “I could'a told you that.” Peter huffed.

            “Shush.”

            “I'm eldest, you shush.”

            “Care to continue with the interrogation?” Erik asked with a smirk, looking at the two teens in amusement.

            “Why were you in there?” Wanda asked him, taking a purposefully long sip of the tea -  which she didn't even like.

            “For killing the President.”

            “Then why the hell are you so ready to let this guy into our lives?” she demanded, turning snappily to face her brother.

            “Because he didn't do it intentionally!” Peter retorted, “He was trying to save the guy for Christ's sake!”

            “Didn't do a very good job.”

            “Like how you did an excellent job trying to cheat when we were paintballing.”

            “I cheated?” Wanda asked in outrage, “You cheated! How am I supposed to hit you if you move fast enough to move me in front of the pellet?!”

            “You ended up shooting Lorny.” Peter reminded her.

            “Paintball is not murder.” she shot right back.

            “No.” Erik interrupted, “But the means of missing were the same in both cases. Now hate me if you will. I won't take offence. But trust that I did not want to kill him. I did not want to kill one of our own.”

            “You're not saying...”

            “I am saying precisely that, Wanda. I know you may not want to trust me, but you should trust me on that at least.”

            Wanda sighed, “Why did you help my brother? Not that I would have wanted you to not help him. What kind of sicko would I be if I wanted that? No, I just want to know why you didn't leave him to the dogs.”

            “So good at phrasing things.” her brother muttered, running a lazy hand through his silver locks.

            “I wasn't going to leave a mutant at the mercy of a monster like Stryker. Regardless of paternity. But the knowledge wasn't going to make me stop, if that's what you want to get at. I protected him for the same reason you would. We protect our own. And family protects family.”

            “Even if family just found out they were family.” Peter added, jabbing his finger down into the table's centre to reinforce his point.

            Wanda's eyes met her brother's and, as ever, both knew precisely what the other was thinking.

            “Thank you.” she said at last, “Thanks, I... I don't know what I would have done if... well.”

            “You're welcome.” Erik said before she had to finish, voice unusually soft, “I don't expect to suddenly be allowed into your lives to act as a father. And neither of you should expect that of me either.” he warned them, “But now, we are all family. And that will not change. So trust that I won't let any harm come to either of you.” he promised them.

            Peter cast a grin at his sister, “What did I say? Not that bad.”

            “Shut up dungbeetle.”

            “You still can't come up with good insults.” he scoffed.

            “You're not worthy of good insults.” Wanda retorted, “Anyway. Be serious. You've still got a crazy bastard on your tail.”

            “Do you have to remind me of that? It's not even gone eight. Serious talk can wait until ten at least.” the speedster grumbled, a bowl of cereal appearing before him just as a gust of wind tore through the room.

            “Do you do anything slow?” Erik asked him, watching with a smirk.

            “Other than talk? Nope.” Peter replied, popping the 'p'.

            “Peter, you don't even talk slowly.” his sister pointed out, “Just a tiny bit slower than you run.”

            “Shut up.” he laughed, nudging his sister in the side.

            “Hey! Cup of tea here!”

            “You don't like tea.”

            “No but I still have it.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I do?”

            “Shit answer.”

            “Shut up.”

            “Worse answer.”

            “Shut up even more.” she rolled her eyes, looking up as their father rose from his seat.

            “Feel free to continue bickering.” he told them, “But I have to speak with Charles.”

            “About what?” Peter asked.

            “Stryker.”

            “Can't we be in on the conversation too?” Wanda asked.

            Erik sighed, hands sliding into his pockets, “Study, half an hour.” was all he said in reply as he exited the room. Though, of course, both teens took that as the 'yes' it was cryptically intended as.

 

“He destroyed it, sir.” Alves reported with a sigh as she checked her computer system once more, “They can't be tracked this way any longer.”

            “Very well.” Stryker replied gruffly as he took a seat upon the stool by the desk, “Where was it stationary longest?”

            “Here.” Alves said quickly, pointing at a row on the table that filled the screen.

            “Which is...” Stryker began, standing up and walking over to the map on the wall, “Right here, right in Westchester.” A red headed pin was slid into the cork-board map, pointing directly towards the Xavier Mansion, “Get me everything you have on it.” he ordered as he exited the room in an empowered stride. He would need his troops to be ready. They left at sundown.

****

“Erik you bloody idiot.” Charles snapped as he stormed into his study, finding Erik lounging on _his_ armchair. “You could have been killed. What were you thinking? What the devil were you thinking?  You couldn't even have talked to me first?”

            “Charles, have a brandy.” Erik replied calmly, arm draped over the back of the chair.

            “Don't offer me a drink in my own house Erik.” he snapped, “What the hell were you thinking Erik?”

            “I was protecting our own. My own.”

            “We do that as a team Erik! You could have died!”

            “It takes more than a bullet to kill me Charles, you ought to know that by now. Your sister too.”

            “Raven? What has she to do with any of this?” Charles asked, face becoming a picture of confusion.

            “She was on a crusade. We crossed paths.” Erik told him simply, “She does take her disguises very seriously.” he said, tapping the wound on his shoulder, lightly though so that he wasn't causing himself any more pain than necessary.

            “She did that?” Charles' brow furrowed, this was not the girl he grew up with.

            “You're surprised?” Erik asked, “I'd remind you of my neck but the scar is rather obvious. One would expect even you to notice it.”

            “Shut up Erik.” Charles huffed, slouching back in his chair, “Where is she now?”

            “Still with Stryker. Awaiting the perfect moment to kill him I presume.”

            “Why didn't you bring her back to me?!” Charles roared, a fury riding within him.

            “I don't control her actions Charles, no more than you do. Be thankful she has found a purpose in life.”

            “A purpose planted there by you.”

            “Does it matter where a thought comes from? We're doing the mutant population a service. Stryker. Trask. People like that have no right to live and threaten our kind. You know that as well as I. It's just that Raven and I have chosen to act on that belief.”

            “You corrupted her!” Charles fought back, “You took her away from me and you corrupted her!”

            “One day Charles. Give it one day and she will call here.” Erik told him, choosing not to rise to the argument.

            “W-what?”

            “She, naturally, was rather intrigued by my motives. So for an explanation she agreed to call here at eight o'clock tomorrow. So I suggest you hold onto that anger until you can speak to her yourself. You had more than enough time to convince her of your ideals when I was in the Pentagon. Remember that before you accuse me of anything more.”

            “Your children are outside.” Charles told him, breathing in deeply and exhaling calmly, it would do no good for the pair to argue now. _You can come in you know, no need to eavesdrop._ He whispered into Wanda's mind, trusting that she would pass on the message to her brother. He really was not fond at all of getting into that young man's head.

            “Come on.” Wanda said and took her brother by the elbow, opening the ornate door of the study and pulling Peter in. The second she closed the door behind her, however, there was a sharp knock.

            “Do come in Magda, Hank. I was hoping you'd both be able to join us.” Charles called out and soon enough both the mother and the scientist walking into the room. Hank took a seat behind Charles' chair and Magda led her children over to the sofa, sitting between the pair.

            “Really Charles?” Erik raised his eyebrows at the other man, what was this? A party?

            _A group of people who need to know what is going on and can help._ Charles replied into his mind, earning him a sigh from Erik.

            “Where's Lorna.” Erik asked his ex after a heavy sigh.

            “Playing Monopoly with a bunch of the other mutants.” Magda told him, “They seem to have become very fond of her.”

            “They might not be so much when she beats them.” Peter scoffed and Hank shook his head with a laugh. Having spoken to that little girl he really didn't put it past that smart little thing to beat all the other younger mutants at Monopoly.

            “What are we going to do about the others actually Professor?” Hank piped up.

            Charles shook his head with a sigh, “For now, just giving them a place to stay. We need to handle Stryker before I can think any further on the matter.”

            “Fair enough.” Hank nodded.

            “Are you going to kill him?” Wanda asked suddenly, looking directly into Erik's eyes, “Are you going to kill the man who did this to my brother?”

            “Wanda!” Magda gasped, though she too wanted Stryker dead, that didn't mean she was okay with her daughter expressing the desire to have someone murdered.

            “Tell me, _father._ ” Wanda said, placing a great deal of emphasis on the final word, “Are you going to kill him?”

            “Yes.” Erik replied with a nod, of course he would.

            “Erik...” Charles began but Magda quickly interrupted him.

            “I'm sorry Mr Xavier. But a man like that can't be left to run around freely.”

            “W-we could always erase his memories.” Hank suggested in a small voice with an equally small shrug.

            Erik shook his head, “It isn't enough.”

            “It could be enough!” Charles protested, “I won't have you kill another man under my watch.”

            “You're not my father Charles.” Erik replied darkly, “You don't get a say in what I do.”

            _Stop talking before I punch you._ Charles whispered angrily into Erik's mind.

            _You can't reach._

_No but Hank can._

_Really Charles, I would have thought that you of all people would not stoop to such levels._

Oh Charles really did want to punch him, but the best he could do himself was simply roll his chair over Erik's toes. Another time perhaps.

            “Um, are you two trying to have a mind baby or something?” Peter interrupted, glancing between the pair with a silver eyebrow quirked up, “Because you're having the most intense staring contest ever.”

            Erik didn't even have to reply, instead, Wanda punched her brother in the shoulder. “Shush. But, erm. You know. If Charles is able to make Stryker forget who he is and why he does these things then maybe he'd start over at life, not kill any more mutants.”

            “What about the doctors? And all his psycho army?” Peter pointed out, “Can you make them all forget who they were too?”

            “I would take time. But yes.” Charles nodded, “I'd need to use cerebo.”

            “You won't be able to do that until the mutant who can block your telepathy is taken care of.” Erik reminded him, “And you can't control her.”

            As much as he hated to admit it, Erik had a point. “We do nothing until Raven calls.” Charles told them, “For now I suggest we all make sure that we are ready for a fight.”

            Peter nodded and stood up, “I want to go find Lorna. Come on.” he told his sister and scooped her up in an easy fireman's carry, whizzing her out of the room.

            “How did you cope? When he was younger?” Hank asked Magda after a moment, watching the twins leave the room in awe.

            Magda chuckled and shook her head, “I didn't.” she told him as she stood up, “But if your plan is to sit here and do nothing then I'm going to make myself useful and be there for my children.” she told them before striding out of the room.

            “Well, aren't you to just a perfect match?” Charles teased.

            _Don't make me tear apart your wheelchair Charles._

 _You wouldn't dream of it Erik._ Charles thought back with a smirk.

            “Men, we have a load of mutants here with extraordinary powers, why do you not want to use them?” Erik asked.

            “They're children Erik, they're untrained children.”

            “That didn't stop you before.”

            “He has a point Professor.” Hank chimed in as much as it pained him to admit, “We would never have won against Shaw had you not trained us.”

            Charles sighed, shaking his head, “You saw what happened last time I tried to train young mutants.”

            “That was circumstance Professor, not you.” Hank reminded him and Charles sighed.

            “I'll think on it.”

            “Are you going to at least open the school back up after this is all over?” he asked the telepath.

            “Don't worry Hank. That is one thing I know with certainty will happen.”

            “How many mutants will you take?” Erik asked curiously.

            “As many as I can handle, probably more.”

            Erik nodded his head in thought, perhaps he'd refer any young mutants he came across to Charles in the future. He would help to find the greatness in their kind, Erik was sure of that.

            Hank smiled at the professor, relieved to hear that the school may be opening back up, maybe this meant that Charles really was returning to his former self, “I'm going to go down and work on cerebro a little more.” he informed the pair as he stood up, “Please don't kill each other while I'm gone.” he pleaded, sending them both a puppy-dog-eyed glance before he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

            “You're going to kill him no matter what I say, aren't you?” Charles asked the other man with a sigh.

            “He tortured my son Charles. My mutant son. I won't be sitting idly by whilst you carefully wipe his memory when the problem can be dealt with in a far simpler and easier manner.”

            “How can you call murder easy?”

            “You don't need to ask me that question.” Erik told him sharply, Charles had seen his past and knew full well what sort of life he had grown up to. He knew full well why he could take a life, especially when it deserved to be taken.

            “No one, no matter what they've done, deserves to die Erik.”

            Erik shook his head with a sigh, “It would be simpler if we agreed to disagree.”

            “You're impossible.” Charles muttered with an exasperated sigh, “Now if you don't mind, I'm going to speak to my future students. Please do make yourself at home in _my_ chair and help yourself to _my_ brandy.”

            “You're too kind Charles.” Erik replied with a smirk as he watched his friend wheel himself grumpily out of the room. He and Charles both knew that he would be killing Stryker just as he killed Shaw. It was inevitable. He half expected Charles to butt into his mind once more and lecture him on morality, but surprisingly the only voice in his head was his own. So he sat back with a contented sigh, bullet wound throbbing as he closed his eyes to relax. He hadn't slept in... Lord, he didn't even know how long it had been. But his lack of sleep was finally catching up to him and so he fell into a fitful sleep, resting in the armchair.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell it's been a while hasn't it? I've been insanely busy and, while I was supposed to be studying for my physics exam today, I just couldn't and decided to go back to writing this instead.
> 
> I have gone back and cleared up mistakes from previous chapters including spelling, grammar and continuity mistakes. Nothing dramatic has changed, it won't affect your reading of the story in the least. I've just straightened some things out so you might want to have a quite read back over them, no need to though if you'd rather not. 
> 
> I think I'm getting back into the writing zone and my exams finish at the end of this week so it shouldn't be too long until another update.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the turns this story is taking and let me know what you think!

It was a midnight raid, no one saw it coming, not even Charles Xavier. He was too tired, too grumpy, too frustrated at Erik to focus on anything other than attempting to sleep. Raven tried to contact him as she approached the mansion in the convoy, but her brother was too far gone into the land of dreams to hear her calling to his mind.

            Peter and Wanda were both fast asleep, lying top and tail in the same bed – comforted by each other’s presence – with Lorna, rolled up in a little snoring ball, tucked in between them. As he slept, the final scars on his body began to fade into nothing and the torn up muscle within his leg finally fully knitted itself back together.

It was two teams, just like the attack on the Maximoff house, though they were armed with plastic guns. If Magneto was here Stryker would not have the chance for a kill shot jeopardised. Raven had been lucky in that she hadn’t been checked yet by Merriot, if she had then her cover would have been blown and she would have had to assume another form to remain close to Stryker, perhaps even Merriot’s form.

Erik was sat in the study, wide awake. He’d dozed off when Charles had left the room, leaving Erik alone with a throbbing ache in his shoulder. He hadn’t stayed asleep for very long, rousing a half hour later and pouring himself a brandy. Though he wasn’t along for much longer as Magda had entered and they’d spoken, voices hushed, about the twins – about what trouble they had been growing up and what trouble they still were. They talked and talked, finally beginning to feel like their old married selves again, until Magda stood up with a yawn and declared she was off to bed. Erik had stayed in the study, alone once more with a half empty glass of brandy in hand, mulling over his thoughts.

Raven looked up as the dark shadow of the mansion loomed overhead, hating the fact that she was part of a convoy about to attack the very place she’d once called home. No, it hadn’t been her home, it had just been a place she’d lived. She had to remind herself of that. She’d left it behind as a home eleven years ago in Cuba.

Hank was sat on the edge of a young mutant’s bed, whispering gentle words of comfort as they whimpered from the nightmare they’d been having. “It’ll be okay.” He told the young mutant, “Tomorrow, when we both wake up again, I’ll come find you and we’ll work on something to help you control your powers.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The young boy whimpered, white linen bandages covering his eyes.

“You won’t.” Hank assured, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder, “Just keep that on for now and try to get some rest. Come morning I’ll do everything I can for you. Things are finally starting to calm down.”

The young boy, whose name Hank still didn’t know, nodded his head and curled into the covers, trying to sleep once more.

Raven knew it in herself what she had to do, it didn’t matter that her cover would be blown; she would not fight her kind and assist the humans just to keep Stryker for herself, there was no honour in that. None whatsoever, it would make her as bad as Erik had been, and as bad as Stryker was.

Think of the devil and it seemed he would speak. Stryker’s voice crackled through their radios: “Kill shots are a no unless aiming for Lehnsherr.” he told them sternly, “All mutants will be taken alive. Prioritise Lehnsherr and the Maximoff boy.”

He wasn’t gunning for Charles, that made Raven let out a tight breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding in. That meant he didn’t know who and what Charles was, she could use that knowledge to her advantage. But Erik… he was in serious trouble. Even after all this time, even after their brief meeting in which she shot him, Raven still felt something towards Erik. And it wasn’t love, it wasn’t her silly giddy crush on him she’d had when they first met. It was something different, a polar opposite feeling. Respect was a word too weak for it. You respected your elders, you respected your kind. Yet admiration was a word too strong for it. She had admired him in Cuba, but no longer, she’d seen what sort of man he was, what sort of woman he’d made her. Nevertheless, she didn’t truly believe that he deserved to suffer under the hands of a man who was only interested in mutants for his own gain. No one deserved that. Not even Magneto.

Then came Stryker’s voice again, cracking through the radio as they rolled silently up to the front door of the mansion, “Get ready boys.” Within moments they were out of the car, not giving a damn about subtlety any longer and slamming the car doors shut behind them as they readied their guns and charged in through the door.

“Lehnsherr and Maximoff. Find them.” He instructed and the troops began to peel off down the various corridors. All except for Johnson. “What are you standing there for, boy? Go!” he snapped.

“I don’t think so.” Raven replied as Johnson, a small smirk creeping over her lips as blue scales rippled and she transformed back into her natural blue form.

Erik heard the car doors slam and was instantly on his feet, slamming the glass down onto the table before striding hurriedly through the mansion towards Charles’ bedroom. He rapped twice on the door before entering, not caring whether Charles was presentable or not.

“Get up.” He snapped, slamming his palms down onto the footboard of Charles’ bed, making the topless telepath jerk awake in surprise.

“Erik… what are you…” he didn’t have time to finish his groggily spoken sentence before Erik stalked straight towards him and manhandled him into his wheelchair.

“They’re here. And so is Raven. We need to fight. Get the others, I’ll see to the twins.” He ordered as though Charles were simply another member of his brotherhood before stalking out of the room towards the room that the three Maximoff siblings had insisted upon sharing.

 _Hank?_ Charles called as he pulled on a jumper and wheeled himself out of his room, _They’re here._ He didn’t wait to see if Hank had registered his message or not, simply rolled towards the landing to see what the raucous was. The sight that greeted him made him wish for his legs more than he ever had before, purely so he could stalk down there and punch the shit out of Stryker himself.

Erik flung the door of the twin’s room open so hard he completely destroyed the hinges, “Peter. Wanda.” He called, shaking the pair awake with rough, calloused hands, “They’re here. So take your younger sister and stay out of trouble.”

Peter was on his feet in an instant, a slowly waking Lorna now cradled in his arms, “But I can help.”

“We can help.” Wanda corrected as she climbed to her feet.

“You’ll do no one any good if you’re both dead.” Erik scowled, shaking his head, “Stay hidden.” He commanded and stormed out of the room once more, jogging quickly down a side staircase into a corridor on the bottom floor where he strode towards Stryker and his people. He knew it was unlike him, telling kids to hide from the fight, to not use their powers to help. But this paternal instinct to protect that had bloomed inside of him made him want those kids as far away from the battlefield as they could get. As much as he hated to admit it, he could now see things from Charles’ point of view, he now understood why Charles refused to let the younger mutants assist them. For Erik, war had always been about the fight, yet for Charles it had always been about protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. And now Erik was at sea, lost in the middle of these two extremes of opinion as a result of his fatherhood.

Raven and Stryker were in a brawl more feral than one between wild beasts. It was more vicious, more brutal than anything he’d seen on animal documentaries. Blue limbs were tangled with pale clothed ones and Stryker’s men were fast approaching from all angles. Without hesitation, Charles lifted a finger to his temple and delved into the minds of all the men, _Freeze._ He whispered. And they did. Raven scrambled to her feet and staggered back before casting a sharp look up to the balcony where Charles was located.

“Charles.” She breathed, it really was good to see him again, despite the circumstances, “Thanks.” She said eventually and gave him a curt nod.

“Raven!” Hank exclaimed, shocked, as he sprinted out of the hallway very much blue. “You’re here. I… wow. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Hank.” Raven nodded her head politely, she couldn’t allow herself to get attached again, “But just because you’ve frozen them I don’t think we’re in the clear.” She informed Charles.

“Why ever not?”

“I’m why not.” Another voice called from the ground floor and a woman, dressed head to toe in military gear, stepped out of the shadows. The moment she emerged, she raised her hand into the air and electromagnetic waves, of a frequency so high they caused Charles to cry out in pain and clutch his head in his hands, bore down on the telepath. His grip over the minds of the soldiers was gone.

Hank was furious. He rushed to the edge of the balcony and leapt over with ease, “Stop that, or you’ll regret it.” He growled, fiercely protective over the Professor. But all the men raised their plastic guns towards Hank and he froze, one bullet he could handle, even two, but a tirade of bullets he knew beyond a doubt that he could not.

“You were the one who was stopping me before.” Charles groaned, lifting his aching head to look at her with a contained rage.

“Yes.” She replied as she moved over to stand by her boss, Colonel William Stryker, “An excellent mutation don’t you think? I don’t even need Magneto’s helmet to keep out telepaths.”

“Speaking of.” Stryker said as he retrieved his gun from where it had landed during his scuffle with Raven, “Where is our favourite metal-bender? I’d rather like to have a chat with him, his son, and you, Mr Xavier. Your telepathic powers could prove quite useful to me.” In all honesty, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t known about them beforehand. What a goldmine he had been missing out on.

“You’re not going anywhere near Charles.” Raven growled, stepping out protectively in front of him.

“If you do,” came Erik’s eerily calm voice from down a ground-floor corridor as he stepped out into the foyer, “Well, you don’t want to know what I would do to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Stryker asked, levelling his plastic gun at Erik’s head as he whirred to face him, “Will that be before or after I shoot you?”

 

***

 

“We’re helping.” Peter told his sister as their youngest sibling yawned into his shoulder, “We’ll leave Lorny with mum and go help Erik. We’ll go help dad.”

“Damn right. We’re helping.” Wanda confirmed with a nod of her head and Peter vanished in a blur, taking Lorna to the room in which their mother was holed up before returning to his twin’s side before she’s even managed to blink.

“Let’s go.” The twins said in unison and Peter moved a hand to support Wanda’s neck.

“Wait.” Wanda said before Peter began running, “You have to promise me one thing, Pietro.”

“What?” Peter asked, scowling slightly.

“You won’t get hurt. Because I swear, if you do I’ll kill you. And then I’ll let Lorna decorate your coffin.”

“Fine.” Peter grumbled, “But the same goes for you. You don’t freaking dare get hurt.”

“Fine.” Wanda agreed, nodding her head sharply. And, with that, Peter took off.

He ran them through the corridors, pausing on his way to check Lorna was still with their mother – leaving Wanda hovering in the air – before continuing to the balcony where Raven and the Professor were.

They arrived just as the gun was levelled at Erik and Peter took off down the stairs, leaving Wanda behind before she could even think about stopping him. He made to snatch the gun from Stryker’s grip before dashing around the others and taking all their guns off them as well but when he reached the woman he stopped in front of her, recognition dawning upon him. Peter swung a fist into her face, sending her flying slowly backwards before he moved around and punched her again, and again, and again, sending her soring slowly through the air.

“Take that Alves you bitch.” He spat and moved over to Stryker, taking his gun from him and levelling it at Alves before slowing himself back down and slipping into regular time again.

Alves was send flying into three soldiers and took them all crashing to the ground with her. Stryker turned his head towards Peter, a wild fury in his eyes. But he knew better than to be distracted by the boy. Erik, on the other hand, felt worry and pride surge through him at he turned his head to face his son. But he spent too long with his attention focused on Peter and a left-hook from Stryker caught him wildly off guard, sending him crashing to the ground. He felt his stitches tear as he landed, hard, on his injured shoulder and could feel blood already beginning to seep out.

Merriot snapped into action and ran at Peter, who was distracted by the punch his father had taken, he wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist and tackled him to the ground. The gun was sent skittering into the centre of the room.

Charles watched wide eyed as he fought against Alves’ frequency. The knock she took had severely weakened her, allowing Charles to latch onto a few minds that she hadn’t bothered to protect so well, and freeze the soldiers in their tracks before they could do anything to hurt any of his friends or his family. He maintained steady eye contact with the doctor, head throbbing as he fought against her, but going by the bloody grin on her face, it was clear she wasn’t giving up without a strong fight.

“Peter!” Wanda yelled and threw herself over the edge of the balcony. She didn’t care if she broke a bone or two, she had to get that brute off her brother. Wanda landed hard on Merriot’s back, eliciting a loud crack that could be heard by everyone in the room, and fell forwards onto the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she shoved the still form of the man away from her brother and pulled Peter into an embrace, “You okay?” she asked and he nodded.

“I’m fine Wandy, are you okay?” he asked in return, eyes darting over her for signs of injury.

“Pete, I’m good.” She assured him, a gentle smile gracing her features.

Stryker’s eyes held the fury of a caged beast and he swung another punch at Erik’s head, causing the man to drop backwards onto the floor gripping onto consciousness by his fingernails. The metal in the room around them began to hum and rise into the air, but slowly. Blood loss and head injuries were never a good mix, regardless of how powerful a mutant you were. The floating metallic item’s reflected in Stryker’s enraged eyes as he dashed over to the gun Peter had dropped and picked it up whilst the teens were comforting each other. Growling, teeth bared, he knelt on Erik’s chest and pressed the barrel of the gun to his head.

The metal melted onto Stryker, wrapping around him in snaking tendrils as Erik attempted to force the other man off. But his head was spinning. Black and white dots were swarming over his vision. Blood from his shoulder was steadily pooling out beneath him.

“Erik!” Raven yelled, gripping the edge of the balcony tight before beginning to sprint down the stairs.

“No! Erik!” Screamed Charles, helpless to do anything. Styker’s mind was too well defended by Alves, there was nothing he could do.

“Dad!” Peter roared, leaping to his feet and running for his father.

Stryker cocked the gun.

And a resounding boom enveloped the foyer of the mansion.

Peter didn’t make it to Erik before he dropped to his knees.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm supposed to be studying but I'm procrastinating because I don't want to. So here's another chapter. And I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with it but as my updates are usually really infrequent I thought that, considering I'd written it, I should post it. Besides, that cliffhanger I left you lot with was just cruel of me.
> 
> It was the ending of this chapter I struggled with, I just wasn't sure where to cut it off. But I hope where I've chosen works.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the story. Really, your reviews are what keep me wanting to write. It was because of your reviews for the last chapter that I churned this one out so quickly.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lorna yawned as she fully awoke. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, remembering Peter picking her up and carrying her, dumping her on her mum’s bed. But before that, Mr Magnet – no, Erik he’d told her to call him – had come into the room. He had looked mad, really mad, and she knew something was wrong. So Lorna slid off the bed, ignoring her mother’s protests and wiggling out of Magda’s grip each time she tried to stop the eight-year-old. She could hear the fighting going on and ran along a ground floor corridor towards it as fast as her legs could carry her. Her bare feet pattered on the ground and her breathing was heavy, she knew they might hear her coming but she just hoped they were too busy fighting to notice her. She could hear her mother running down the corridor behind her, calling – no, screaming – out her name. But Lorna refused to listen, she had to help Peter. She had to help Wanda. She had to help Erik.

            But upon reaching the foyer Lorna realised she was too late. Reality rushed cruelly back to her, reminding her harshly that there was nothing she could do, she was just a kid. Her eyes widened and brimmed with tears as she watched a man kneel down on Erik’s chest and press a gun to his forehead. She watched the metal wrap around the other man’s body but as more and more of Erik’s blood pooled on the floor the weaker his grip on it was becoming. She could feel it; she could feel his hold over the metal ebbing. And then she saw Stryker’s finger twitching over the trigger. Fear and panic washed over her and she ran out into the foyer.

            “NO DON’T!” she screamed and a magnetic pulse exploded from her body with a resounding boom, rippling through the entire mansion, causing the very building to shake. Every single person dropped to their knees, Raven tumbling down the stairs she had been halfway down; Charles slumping forwards in his chair; Peter dropping to his knees and falling face first to the ground before he could reach Erik; Stryker collapsing, limp, over Erik’s still conscious body.

            “Lorna…” Erik breathed, turning his head to look at her before shoving Stryker’s limp form off him, wrenching the gun out of his hand as he did so. His shoulder still ached, yes, as did his head, and he still felt woozy from blood loss. But the pulse of magnetic energy… it suddenly made him feel so alive, so energised, as powerful as he would be were he uninjured. He turned his head to look back at the metal that had been wrapping around Stryker’s body and concentrated on it. “Look away Lorna.” He instructed as the metal tendrils easily morphed into razor sharp ropes that wrapped around Stryker’s still form as though they were trying to mummify him before he caused them to sharply shoot away. Stryker’s skin was sliced open all over as the metal made its retreat and blood began to pool out onto the floor, mixing with Erik’s bloodstains and turning the once pristine ground into an ocean of red. Reaching out a hand towards Stryker’s body, Erik concentrated on the iron within the blood. It wasn’t moving. Stryker’s heart had given up. He was dead.

            Only after this confirmation could he turn back to face Lorna. She had her back to him, her hands held up to her eyes – still following his instructions to not look. Erik pulled his aching self to his feet and walked over to her, slowly. Her shoulders were trembling and tears were spilling out from between her fingers. He placed a gentle hand on one of her shoulders and crouched down in front of the little girl.

            “I’m sorry…” Lorna sobbed, lowering her hands from her eyes, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone… I’m so sorry Mr Erik.”

            “Lorna.” Erik shook his head, looking around at the limp bodies, “Lorna it’s alright. You didn’t hurt anybody. In fact, had it not been for you, I’d surely be dead.”

            “They’re just a-asleep?” Lorna asked, lower lip trembling as tears still flowed freely from her eyes.

            “They are.” Erik confirmed, “If you concentrate very hard on their hearts and the iron in their blood you’ll be able to see that they are all perfectly alright.”

            “I don’t know how to do that…” she mumbled.

            “You’ll know how to one day. I was not born knowing how to control my powers, and I think your power has the same ring to it as mine.” He told her gently.

            “But I don’t know how to use it… what if I hurt someone? What if I hurt Muma or Wandy or Petey?”

            Erik shook his head, “You won’t. I couldn’t control my powers when I was your age, but I learnt how to, and as it came to me it will come to you. Just give it time. But do not, Lorna, for a second, fear your power. Had you not used it just now, well, let’s not think of what could have happened.” In truth, he wasn’t sure if Lorna’s powers were the same as his or not, he’d never sent out an electromagnetic pulse but, then again, he’d never tried. But he could tell that despite her inexperience, her bond with the magnetic field of Earth was strong, not as strong as his own, but strong none the less. And he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the presence of another mutant like him, he had thought he was the only one for so so long.

            Lorna sniffled and nodded before wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him into a tight hug. “Thank you Mr Erik.”

            “I should be thanking you.” Erik told her, smiling a little. He’d never been hugged by a child before. He’d never though creatures so young and innocent could even consider stepping near his broken and corrupted self. But here they were, and she wasn’t afraid of him. She was being kind towards him, worrying over what he thought of her not over what she thought of him.

            Erik sat back on the ground, Lorna sitting down beside him with her eyes roaming fiercely protectively over her elder brother and sister. Erik took care of his shoulder, ripping off fabric of his sleeve to wrap around it in a bandage. It was by no means perfect, but it would do. The bleeding seemed to stop soon after, although the entirety of his shirt was stained deep red. They sat there beside each other for two hours, Lorna’s eyes never leaving her siblings whilst Erik bound the hands of all the unconscious men with the strips of bloodied metal that had taken Stryker’s life.

            “What happened to your shoulder?” Lorna asked him after a while.

            “I was shot.” Erik replied calmly, “But it isn’t life threatening.”

            “It looks bad.” She frowned, pouting worriedly at the blood.

            “It looks worse than it is.” He assured her, “It’s like when you cut your ear; there’s a lot of blood but the wound is only a little scratch.”

            Lorna nodded slowly, “I cut my ear once. Well, I don’t remember it really. But Wanda likes to bug me. See, Mr Erik, I’m not very good at being careful. And I was even more bad at it when I was littler. Pete was painting the house but, when he finished, he didn’t tidy. And my foot got stuck on a rolly paint brush and I fell into the telly cabinet. There was loads of blood. Loads and loads.”

            Erik chuckled, “Well then, this shoulder shot is just like that. Lots of blood, but no real wound.”

            Lorna nodded, placing her chin back into her hands and resuming her watch over her siblings.

            “Can you keep an eye on everyone, Lorna?” Erik asked her as he stood up. She seemed to have calmed down a lot from her outburst but he didn’t want to leave a dead body in the room any longer, “I need to take care of something.”

            She nodded, a smile crossing her lips. She was being trusted to do something important and was determined to not mess it up, “Yeah!”

            “If any of the soldiers begin to wake, come and find me as quickly as you can.” He ordered and moved over to Stryker’s body. Frowning down at the bloodied corpse, he reached out and grabbed him under one arm. Erik didn’t want to strain his power too much, and neither did he want to strain his wounded arm; so he had to resort to dragging the body with one hand out of the main door and into the driveway.

            Stryker was dumped unceremoniously onto the gravel, head lolling uselessly, before Erik stalked back into the house and began to drag Alves’ limp, unconscious but still living, form out of the front door. She was dumped right beside Stryker and Erik, holding out a hand towards her, unwrapped the metal that bound her wrists behind his back. He knew Charles wouldn’t approve and so he was thankful Charles was still out cold. The metal sharpened into a viciously sharp triangular blade and hovered in the air for the briefest of seconds before Erik send it so burrow straight into her heart.

            Taking a step back, he ran a hand through his hair. It almost seemed surreal, but there they were, the people who had tortured his kind and tortured his son, dead. Now all that was left was to take care of the bodies. He hoped Charles wouldn’t mind a burnt patch of gravel on his drive.

            A half hour later, Erik returned, leaving the fire roaring healthily outside as it consumed the corpses of those two brutal beings.

            “What did you do?” Lorna asked, looking up at him as he re-entered the building.

            “Made sure that the people who hurt your brother will never be able to hurt anyone again.”

            Despite Lorna not knowing quite what that meant, she was happy enough that it meant Peter was safe, “Good.” She nodded and Erik sat down on the ground beside her once more, “How long ‘til they awake up?”

            Erik shook his head, “I have no idea.”

            It took two hours.

 

            After those two hours of almost complete silence, Peter began to stir. “Oh shit!” he yelped, jumping to his feet. He’d fallen asleep? How in hell had that happened? “Lorna?” Peter asked, eyes as wide as golf balls when he saw her and he quickly moved over to her and picked her up in a hug, “What the hell are you doing here little one?”

            “Saving the day.” Lorna replied smugly, wrapping her small arms around him in a tight hug.

            “Huh?” he frowned down at her, confused, before glancing at Erik, “I’m… wait…what? I thought you were a gonner… Sorry, man, I’m really confused. Like really confused. Like more confused than anyone is when they’re watching a Clint Eastwood film and trying to figure out if it’s a sequel or not.”

            “I’ll explain when the others awake and the remainder of these men are taken care of.” Erik replied calmly, glancing out over the sea of, now groggily groaning, bound bodies.

            The rest awoke slowly, a lot more slowly than Peter had. But within an hour, everyone was awake, Magda included and the mutants who had been asleep upstairs included. Wanda and Magda were sat with Peter and Lorna – who was smiling to herself as she braided Peter’s hair – all were whispering gentle words of comfort to each other in both English and Romani. Raven and Hank had the trussed up men grouped together in a corner. The other mutants that had been rescued from the facility has snuck down to take a look at what was going on but all been hurried off to bed by Charles.

            _Erik?_ Charles called into his mind, asking permission before entering.

            _Yes, Charles? Here to scold me for killing Stryker?_ Erik replied, glancing up at his old friend who was still sat in his wheelchair on the balcony overlooking the foyer.

            _No. Not this time._ Charles replied, shake of his head implied by the tone of his voice. _I wanted to let you know I’ll wipe the memories of the soldiers… and I wanted to tell you that I’m pleased you’re not dead. For a moment there, I was worried you would be and I would have been sitting there useless to stop it from happening._

Erik looked down at the bloodstained floor and his bloodstained self, _Thank you for your concern Charles. I’ll admit, because I can’t hide anything from you whilst you’re in my head, that I feared I may have been breathing my last breaths._

Charles was about to reply when Peter appeared beside him in a rush of wind and dramatically leant over the balcony, “Romeo, wherever art thou Romagneto?” he called, unable to contain his snickers. He moved away from the balcony and clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder “Sorry, JulieX. Had to.” He smirked and with that, was gone again and back with his family at the foot of the stairs.

            Charles blushed a furious red, finding himself about to reply to thin air for about the thousandth time after meeting Peter. Instead of bothering to reply, to spare himself further embarrassment, Charles set to work. Fingers pressed to his temples, he delved into the minds of the soldiers, erasing their memories of mutants, of Erik and Peter, of the mansion. Directions to the bus station appeared in the minds along with a false story explaining what they were doing there. Charles nodded to Erik and, sure enough, the metal-bender – who looked just as embarrassed as Charles – dropped the metal from the men’s wrists.

            One by one the soldiers stood up and filed out of the door. They didn’t register the blood on the floor or the mutants in the room. Their minds were set on making it to the bus station to go back to their old lives before they’d joined Stryker, before they’d joined the efforts in hunting down mutants. As the last man filed out Magda spoke up.

            “Okay. I… sorry if this is a bad time but could someone please explain to me what happened?” Magda asked.

            “Erik?” Charles prompted and Erik shared a glance with Lorna before stepping into the middle of the foyer. The young girl nodded her head and sent him a small but brave little smile.

            “Lorna isn’t human.” Erik told them, though his attention was directed purely at Magda, “She’s a mutant. I don’t know what she was doing down here but mere moments before Stryker pulled the trigger she stepped up, very bravely so might I add, and sent out a magnetic pulse that knocked everyone unconscious.”

            “Except you?” Hank asked.

            Erik nodded, “I’m sure you’ll have fun formulating a theory as to why not, Hank.” Hank’s brain was already whirring over everything he’d ever learnt about magnetic fields, electromagnetism, EMP generation. Like charges repelled, it could be something along those lines... he really would have to look into this.

            “Have you ever emitted a pulse like that, Erik?” Charles asked, curiosity creasing his brow.

            “Never.” Erik shook his head, “But I haven’t ever tried.”

            The telepath nodded his head slowly, “And Stryker?” he asked, frowning at the bloodstains on the floor.

            “And the psycho Doc?” Peter piped in.

“I took care of Stryker. And of the Doctor.”

            “You killed in front of her?” Magda asked, fury clouding everything else she’d heard.

            “Not really.” Lorna piped up, wriggling out of Peter’s grip and pattering over to her mother, “He told me to look the other way.”

            “Oh, you think that makes it better do you Erik?” Magda snapped, slapping his hard on his wounded shoulder causing the man to hiss sharply in pain.

            “Of course it doesn’t. But you cannot stand there and tell me you would not have done the same thing had you seen the man and woman who attacked _our_ son lying there, unconscious, on the floor.”

            “No! No I wouldn’t have!” Magda yelled, “Not with Lorna in the room.”

            “Here we freaking go.” Peter grumbled to his twin over the yells of their parents, “You know, I’m surprised the punches haven’t started flying yet. Mum’s got one hell of a swing. And Dad’s, well, Dad.”

            “Pete,” Wanda glanced at him.

            “What?”

            “Shut up.” She smirked and whacked him on the back of the head.

            It was Raven who interrupted the Maximoff-Lenhsherr argument, slipping into her blonde form and stepping over to the pair. And Charles couldn’t help but feel proud of her assertiveness, of her strength, despite her unorthodox method. “Look. You’re both tired. You’re both stressed. So can you just quit the snapping and let’s everyone go to bed. We should be celebrating that that bastard is dead, not arguing. And I swear if either of you argue back at me I will knock you both out and leave you to sleep on the floor whilst I sleep in a comfortable bed.”

            “I’d like to see that.” Peter snickered as Wanda beckoned Lorna over.

            “Yeah, I think they’ll now all be wanting to clobber you over the head.” Wanda smirked, “Let’s go sleep.”

            “Night Muma, night Mr Erik. Night Miss Lizard. Night Bearman. Night Professor X. Night anyone who I forgot.” Lorna listed off as she linked hands with both of her siblings and the Maximoff trio made their way down the corridor towards the bedroom they had all insisted upon sharing.


	15. Chapter 15

No one awoke before ten the next day and no one was out of bed before eleven. The events of the night had taken a toll on them all be it physically, emotionally, or both. Lorna lay curled up between her siblings once more, dreams of the night’s events flowing through her mind causing her to cry out in her sleep and wildly toss and turn. But, even in their sleep, the twins knew what to do to comfort her. Peter traced gentle circles into her upper back as Wanda trailed her hands though her younger sister’s hair

Charles sat awake in his bed, rolling a rook of an old chess set between his fingers as thoughts wormed their way through his brain. He needed to think through the facts and, for the moment, avoid speculation. Erik Lehnsherr, more commonly known as Magneto, was the father of a pair of twins: Peter and Wanda Maximoff. Their mother was Magda Maximoff; they had a younger sister named Lorna Maximoff. Lorna was not as ordinary as everyone had originally thought, she was a mutant. And with those powers of hers, those powers of magnetism, could she also be a child of Erik’s? Charles shook his head; there he went again with speculation. Yes, he knew Magda had told her children that there was a chance that Lorna could be Erik’s, but he also knew that it was not his place to reveal this fact. And so he settled back against his pillows and sighed, trailing his hands through his hair. That was enough of thinking. With a little difficulty, he eased himself into his wheelchair and pulled a warm cardigan on over his pyjamas before wheeling himself out the door and towards the kitchen.

One by one, young mutants who had been rescued from the compound made their way into the kitchen for breakfast and Charles greeted eat one of them with a warm and friendly smile. He engaged in pleasant small talk with each of them and began to learn about their powers. Hope was growing within him that he would be able to get the school running again, and these young mutants would be his first students.

Erik stayed sat against the headboard of his bed, listening to the growing clamour of voices downstairs. He wasn’t quite ready to go down and join the crowd yet. He frowned down at the bullet wound in his shoulder and lightly trailed a fingertip over the stitches he’d put in before falling asleep the night before. Perhaps now it would finally be allowed to heal. Perhaps. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a gentle knocking on the door and an impatient huff from outside it.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“Me.” Lorna replied, “And Petey.”

“Come in.”

The siblings entered the room as Erik pulled a T-shirt on and Lorna bounded up onto the bed, sitting at Erik’s feet. She gnawed on her lip and opened her mouth to speak before closing it again quickly and casting her brother a glance.

“Lo, it’s not that hard to say.” Peter sighed, though still his attitude was light hearted.

“Then you say it.” The child huffed back.

“What is this that needs said?” Erik asked, frowning at his son. Son: a word it still felt strange to him to use.

“Lorna wants to ask you something. She wants to ask you if –”

He was cut off by his younger sister piping up and blurting out her question, her train of thought acting like a derailed steam train, “Muma said there was a chance you might be my dad well I think that’s what she said, I’m not sure. I think it is. Are you my dad? My real dad?”

Erik looked shocked, a very rare occurrence for him. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed and he exhaled deeply through his nose. “I would that I had the answer.” He told her honestly, “But unfortunately I don’t. It’s a question you’ll have to put to your mother.”

The young mutant frowned and hopped up off the bed, “Okay.” She said decisively and darted out of the room, determination echoing through her footsteps.

Barely a moment later Erik heard footsteps approaching the door once more and slid silently out of bed. A quick fist tapped at the door and he strode over to it, clad simply in his shirt and underwear.

“Magda.” He greeted somewhat curtly, “Have you come for another shouting match? Because I’d rather eat something beforehand, it’s far more pleasant to argue on a full stomach.”

“I haven’t come to argue, Erik. But you’re really making me want to.” Replied his ex. “I’ve come to talk to you about Wanda and Peter. And Lorna.”

Erik said nothing but nodded for her to go on.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but after what she did, after showing her powers… I…” Magda trailed off, “She’s eight years old. And eight years ago we reunited in a bar. And…”

“And we slept together, yes.” Erik nodded, “You’re trying to tell me she’s my child too, aren’t you?”

Magda gnawed on the inside of her lower lip and nodded, “I think so.”

“Look at me, Magda. Look at my name, my reputation. I cannot be a father to Peter, let alone to a young child.”

“And I don’t want you to be. Believe me this is the opposite of what I want. But it is the exact thing they all will want.”

“Magda…”

“No, Erik. Don’t say anything else. Just think about it. You can’t change their genetics. And they want you in their life. So it’s up to you whether you stay in their lives or not. Though don’t think this is a proposition to get back together – I do not want that at all. I’ve made the mistake of loving you before and it is not one I’ll do again. So be there for you children or don’t; it doesn’t matter to me. It matters to them.” Magda snapped before stalking out of the room without giving Erik a chance to reply.

The metal-bender sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He pressed his forehead against the now-closed door and let out another irregular exhale. This wasn’t a decision he knew how to make. Military decisions, tactics, who lives and dies… those were decisions he knew how to make. But decisions about family, about _his family_ – a phrase he never once he thought would apply to him – those weren’t decisions he was equipped to make.

 _Try, Erik._ Came Charles’ ever comforting voice in him mind. But Erik shook his head against the wood of the door.

_Out of my head, Charles. I do not need you at this moment._

_Oh but I beg to differ, old friend._

_I seem to be unable to remember asking for your opinion._ Replied Erik, though laced with bitterness.

_Just try. Try to be a father. They won’t expect you to be the father they never had, but… at least, try to be there for them. For all three of them._

_Out of my head. Now._ Snapped Erik and, before he had a chance to think about what he was doing, he put his fist through the wall that separated the bathroom from the rest of the room. He couldn’t be a father. He simply couldn’t. He was a man with a price on his head; he was a murderer; a branded terrorist; he was Magneto. The list of people who would want him dead was near endless. And he couldn’t do it to what little conscience he had left to bring those young mutants into his mess.

But, on the flip side, could he? If it became known he had children then those kids would surely have bounties placed on their own heads. And so… and so he had to protect them, he had to ensure their safety; to do so he had to be there. Not necessarily as a father. But, perhaps, as a protector. Could he allow these children into his life? Perhaps he could. Perhaps he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we reach the end of the line. I feel that this story has run its course and I should bring it to a close, and while this chapter was difficult to write, I am happy with where I decided to bring this story to a close.
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed this and if you did I would be over the moon if you left a little review.
> 
> To reiterate, only the characters you don't recognise belong to me. The rest all belong to the FMCU and Marvel itself.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking by me with this story. Until the next time my friends!


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